Reconciliation
by Jan Lee
Summary: [NOVEL] Isaac and Ellie have survived the horrors of the Sprawl, but it's not over till a stomp to the Necromorph's face. Rest for Isaac is going to be a long time coming. Isaac-centric. Isaac/Ellie. Post-DS 2, bridging DS 2 to DS: Salvation. Special thanks goes to Captain Crazy-Nonsense and Tayta Malikai for the beta-reading. [COMPLETE]
1. Home Free

**Rating: M,** for every reason conceivable.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dead Space or the characters.

**A/N:** So I played Dead Space and then I played Dead Space 2 and _then_ I read a whole lotta stories, but none completely satisfied my utter need for Isaac badassery. And I thought. I thought some more. Then I thought of a story that showcases Isaac's innate ability to kick ass and take names, and consequently, save the universe.

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**DEAD SPACE: RECONCILIATION**

**Chapter One: Home Free**

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**Isaac sat beside Ellie** in the co-pilot seat and watched the bursts of orange/white/yellow as the Sprawl violently exploded into nothing but pieces of space slag. Inside him was a numbness, the sort of numbness a veteran of the Resource Wars could relate to, since he'd survived a second encounter with a Necromorph outbreak, had destroyed _another _Marker, and lived. He'd lived. _Ellie _had lived, and that, Isaac felt, seemed fair. Right. But aside from the twinge of justice at having helped Ellie survive, a cold blankness had yawned open inside him. Shock, he supposed.

The engines of the ship roared- -shaking the interior metal- -under the pressure Ellie put them, but were steady and to his engineer's ears, sounded strong and powerful. Constellations and pinprick lights from the stars furled out in the utter black of the universe, the big rings of Saturn swooping out with audacious beauty. The scene outside the window was truly singular, majestic, even, yet Isaac couldn't find an ounce of appreciation for it anywhere in his aching, abused body.

Besides that, the javelin-sized holes in his hand and shoulder throbbed in angry pain despite the painkillers he'd downed. They'd patched up the wounds as best as they could, but both knew he'd need professional medical attention. At this point, Isaac would rather bleed out than deal with more fucking doctors. For Ellie, though, he'd risk treatment _if _he could find a doctor who wouldn't turn him over to EarthGov.

"You're awful quiet," Ellie said over her shoulder. "You okay over there?"

He had nothing to say to that, so he settled on saying, "Yes. I'm…everything's fine."

"Some day, hunh?" She chuckled to herself. "Sort of puts all my other bad days into perspective."

At least she'd had a handful of bad days. Isaac had had _three years _of bad, most of which he could barely remember. As if the idea of the research that delved into his tormented mind had generated it, a headache pulsed dully behind his temples. He was familiar with the painful ones that shot an orange haze and searing lights across his vision, that felt like nails piercing through his head, but he was familiar with this type of headache as well. Stress. Exhaustion.

"Isaac?"

Her prompt reminded him he was in a conversation. "Hm. What's our next move?"

"Frankly, anywhere we can land that'll get us some food, a hot shower, and a bed. We both smell like…like"- -he heard the pause as she groped for an adequate comparison- -"an emergency room gone bad. Also, I'm guessing that EarthGov'll be looking for you. And the Unitologists. If they aren't," her tone turned ominous, "I'd be suspicious."

"What's the next closest station?" He no sooner had spoken then a buzz rattled through the ship. "That the comm link?"

"It's a transmission," she confirmed, waiting for him to put up his visor before she punched a button. A video hologram opened on the windshield of the ship, displaying a neatly dressed older woman wearing the white uniform and gold pin of EarthGov. Static crackled. Then the picture flickered, went out, and came back on. Ellie leaned forward. "Hello? Can you read me?"

More static hissed through the live link as the woman responded. "…es, we read you loud'n'clear! Oh, thank God. Have you come from Titan?"

"Yes, yes, we have!"

"More survivors!" She repeated it over her shoulder, with such relief and joy, and Isaac heard clapping and celebratory noises in the background. "We've established an emergency refugee center here on Rhea. Are you able to fly the distance?"

"Roger that. We'll be touching down in approximately two hours. Is there medical staff available?"

The older woman nodded. "Yes. I'll notify a few doctors to be ready to receive you when you land, and I'll keep this line open in case you need any further assistance. Before we sign off, we're supposed to ask if you have a passenger by the name of Isaac Clarke aboard your vessel?" Her question came paired with an inset picture in profile and face-on of Isaac.

Son of a bitch, thought Isaac, they _are_ after me. Then, I've put Ellie in danger. Dammit. She should've left me.

Ellie leaned forward and squinted. "No," she answered slowly, "that doesn't look like anyone I know. Why's he so important?"

"Apparently he's the one who started the whole Titan disaster. The higher-ups say he's a terrorist, who'd kill you as soon as look at you…though, we're hearing some strange stories from some of the other survivors. Something about dead monsters and zombies?"

"I'm on board with a security officer I picked up. No Isaac Clarke here," Ellie repeated. "Thanks for keeping a look-out. Expect us at oh-four-hundred hours. Signing off."

Before the EarthGov woman could continue the conversation, Ellie terminated the video. After a moment, in which Isaac lowered his visor, she rotated the pilot's chair to gaze fully at him with her remaining eye, and he saw how pale her face had become and wondered if it was blood loss that caused the paleness or fear.

"Isaac," she murmured, "Isaac, what're we going to do?"

Helplessness shaped her features much younger than she was. And even though a bloodied piece of gauze covered her right eye socket, she reminded him of his mother's cherished china dolls. Smooth skin, fine lips, an exquisitely exotic brow, and a feminine chin. Isaac's first instinct was to touch the side of her marred face, but that show of comfort required too much effort, and he had no energy for it. The best he could do was put up a show of confidence for her sake.

"We stick with the plan." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "We can reprogram my RIG to match one of Tiedemann's security guys, easy. I keep my visor up and hope nobody cares."

"Do you think it'll work?" Her arched eyebrow expressed her dubiousness. "Sounds _too_ easy."

Isaac shrugged inside the harness. "It has to. We have no other option."

"We have enough fuel to make a run to Iapetus. You'd have more a chance there than in a refugee camp with loads of people!"

"No, Ellie. Both of us are too exhausted to last the trip, and our patch jobs won't hold forever," he added, placing a hand over the bandage thickly wrapped around his shoulder under his suit. "We have to risk it."

Her smile was quick and weak. "Just chock-full of bad ideas, aren't you?"

"I told you," he replied, matching her smirk with one of his own. "You focus on getting us to Rhea in one piece. I'll figure out the RIG."

It was common knowledge that there was an electronic chip in the RIG that stored all the vital information- - name, birth date, allergies, next of kin, clearance levels, etcetera. The chip could be removed and reprogrammed, but of course, there was a specific computer system that had to be used. He doubted the ship they flew would have the system necessary for the changes, and he being a mechanical engineer, with cursory knowledge on the inner workings of computers, had known that when he told the lie to Ellie.

"Fine, I suppose. You're the nerd, anyway," she said without venom. She pivoted the pilot's chair to face forward again. "I'll keep us on course."

Isaac unbuckled his harness, wincing and gasping once when he shifted his shoulder wrong, and went to explore the ship. The inside was clean, low-gleam gunmetal, all electronics and devices functional, with no sign of struggle or death whatsoever. He'd forgotten how a ship could look on the inside without dead bodies, generous smears of blood, piles of gore and body parts…for a second, he feared he'd go into a terrifying flashback, but the images receded. He shook his head. Christ. His newest memories were ones he already wanted to forget.

After a few minutes, Isaac came to the armory. Inside was an alcove labeled 'Suit Repair' in a room with a workbench and several other similar stations. The alcove itself was big enough to accommodate a chair in which a suited man could sit. Isaac eased himself on the chair. A holographic screen popped up and angled to the sides were holographic panels with various keys. The Suit Repair had a diagnostic scanner, which with some modifying, he thought he could probably change the information on his RIG, or if not change it, delete it and blame it on the rough and tumble battles he experienced surviving the Sprawl.

He activated the Suit Repair systems. The alcove closed him in, and he felt like he was inside a store whenever he purchased a new suit from scavenged credits. Magnetic locks snapped him in place as a feminine voice with a clipped accent informed him of the scanner's purpose. It told him to sit still while the diagnostic was in progress. From above the holoscreen, a red light blinked awake, and Isaac, with his visor down, waited for the lasers to fall over him. A few seconds of muted humming.

In front of him on the holoscreen, a model of his suit popped up with orange circles around the damaged areas of his suit and little blurbs of explanations. He went ahead and hit the repair button. The Suit Repair told him, again, to sit still while the repairs were in progress. In the cool dark of the alcove, Isaac's exhaustion hit him like a fist to the face. And before he knew it, Nicole's muffled voice in his ear woke him up.

"Isaac, are you there? Come _iiiiiin,_ Is_aaaaaa_c? Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Isaac! Look, the time difference!" she said, laughing, when he rolled over and accepted the video feed. "I'll call you back later-"

"No, no, it's okay. It's okay." Déjà vu filtered into his fogged state. "How're you doing?"

Her reply wasn't as clear as he would've liked because his starving brain focused on soaking in her familiar features. The holovid washed the color out of her, but his imagination supplied the correct tone to her cream skin, her sunny blonde hair, and the warm, intelligent blue eyes. His heart jerked in his chest, a keening pain that lanced straight to his core. Her lilting voice stopped; she expected an answer. What had he said before?

Something like- -"Enjoy it while it lasts. You know, they're decommissioning her next year." Such a stupid thing to say, he thought. Why hadn't he warned her to get the hell off and never look back?

She became serious. "Thank you."

"For what?" But he knew what she was going to say and he hated himself for what he'd done.

"Just pushing me to do this. I mean, if it weren't for you, I never would've made it this far. You _made _me stick with it."

And the next thing he said, "Just remember, I'm giving you up for six months so you can do this," was so ironic because he _hadn't known_ that six months would actually mean forever.

Static sizzled across the screen. The _Ishimura _was going out of range, but instead of explaining that, Nicole said, "You've come so far yourself. You're not done yet. It's time for _you _to stick with it."

"What?" Isaac's fogginess drained away, and he sat up, alert and awake, staring at the apparition in the video screen. "Nicole, what are you talking about?"

She smiled sweetly, genuinely. The static hissed through her words. "There're…Markers, Isa…. More…for you…destroy."

Then the video feed snapped off with such finality that he jumped, and suddenly a new voice said his name in his ear. "Isaac? You there?"

Ellie on the RIG. He blinked with the glaring glow of the holovid. "Yeah. What is it?"

"I haven't heard from you for a while and I wondered how the reprogramming was coming along. We're closing in on Rhea," she said, reaching across the screen to mess with some controls. "Thought I'd give you the heads-up."

"Thanks. I'm…I'm almost there," he said. He wouldn't tell her about his Nicole-dreams. She'd worry. "Give me a little more time on this."

"Sure." Ellie smiled and signed off the RIGlink.

The Suit Repair had waited patiently for him, displaying on the screen a question that hesitated Isaac's finger over the 'yes' key in utter disbelief from the stroke of luck. The question on the Suit Repair screen was: Are you Isaac Clarke? And under it the option for yes or no. To see what would happen, he clicked on the no option. No alarms sounded. A blip, maybe, as the screen switched to another line of text that told him to use the commanding officer's RIG to verify and the voice in Suit Repair stated it for good measure. Had they, in the last three years, changed the availability of RIG programming?

Isaac gingerly- - as his wounds whined each time he even breathed wrong- -exited the Suit Repair, somewhat amazed and relieved, and returned to the line of lockers he'd passed on the way. There, he jimmied open the locked ones to search for the highest ranking officer's spare jacket and consequently, RIG. Once the correct RIG was found, he returned to the Suit Repair alcove, showed the RIG to the red eye, and the screen blinked with acceptance.

The voice repeated the acceptance, and on the screen in front of him, gave him the option of manually entering his name and information or of transferring RIG information. Using the keyboard, he typed in Arthur, which was his father's middle name, and Ore, which was a professor's last name during his college days, and he filled in the essentials, such as allergies (he was deathly allergic to a type of anesthetic) and medical issues. Much of the form he left blank. Isaac certainly didn't put anything for the 'Religious Preferences' section.

He called Ellie on her RIG, but she beat him to the punch. "Sergeant Ore, hunh? I think I like that."

"I didn't want to use someone else's name for fear that the causality report has already been relayed to EarthGov," he said. "Try not to call me Isaac in public."

"Sure thing, Ore."

He snorted. "That's _Sergeant_ Ore to you, civilian."

"Fine." The laughter was natural. "Get up here and take over. I have to take a bathroom break, and I can't trust auto-pilot when we're so close to safety."

"I'll be there soon."

He signed out and trudged his way to the cockpit to pilot the gunship as Ellie rested. Piloting was not a challenge, as he'd piloted ships before, and the seemingly eternal passage of space lulled him into a comforting neutral that he hadn't experienced since working on machinery before the _Ishimura._

Rhea was a chunk of rock in the middle of the nothing ocean, with the mandatory blinking lights and flares to signal pilots that there was, in fact, civilization up ahead. Ellie took command of the controls before they entered Rhea's airspace, dealing with EarthGov and Rhea's flight control tower as Isaac kept his visor up to shield his face from onlookers.

True to their word, EarthGov had stationed medical officers around their airy, wide-open dock, and as soon as Ellie stepped out, three or four white-uniformed medics swarmed around her from a side-chamber. Helpless, Ellie cast a glance over her shoulder at him, but he nodded. Only then did she allow the medics to hustle her into a stretcher and strap her in. A man who looked to be in his mid-fifties, with wireless glasses and cold blue eyes, approached Isaac as the medical team carted off Ellie, rolling her into a shuttle. It did not immediately take off.

"I'm Dr. Olden," the man said, holding out his thin hand. When Isaac took the hand, immediate tingles of distrust shuttered up and down his spine. Dr. Olden continued, "Welcome to the Rhea station."

"I'm Arthur Ore. Ore, for short." Regardless of the powerfully radiating hotspots in his hand and shoulder, he would not reveal himself to this particular doctor. "Send her on ahead. I'll meet her at the hospital and be there for her recovery."

Dr. Olden scowled, apparently unused to the hard edge in Isaac's voice. "_You_ should go too, Ore. Your RIG is in the yellow. Come with me, and I'll examine you on the way."

"No, thank you. I'm fine without treatment. Isn't there somewhere to sign in?"

Another scowl at his difficult nature. "Yes, of course. There's a registration table to keep track of the survivors, and of course, you must register for quarters. Please step on the shuttle so I can examine you."

"Typical EarthGov. Ever fond of bureaucracy. I said I'm fine, anyway. Signal the shuttle that they can go." Isaac was too old and too tired to be sanguine with this doctor. He waved dismissively. "I received nothing more than a few bumps and bruises. If you'll tell me where, I'll register myself and my friend."

"Then come with me," responded Dr. Olden down his nose, though Isaac stood taller than he. "I'll take you to the designated table."

He signaled the pilot to the shuttle to lift-off, which it did with a gust of air. Ellie was in good care. Then Dr. Olden spun on his heel and began marching down the length of the docking bay and in through a side chamber into a hub. A few steps behind, Isaac followed.

Rhea looked much like Titan, with clean, aesthetically pleasing lines and colors, glass, and with small, tasteful oases of plants and ferns, the organic greenness stinging his tired, weary eyes. Everything was compact and created for maximum efficiency. A small number of people bustled around between areas and on moving sidewalks, but the noise and smell of living humanity came into Isaac's helmet with full potency. He realized he hadn't been a part of a community in a very long time.

At the junction where the docking bays stopped and Rhea Station began, they came to a table, obviously set up to receive survivors because of the hasty, hand-printed signs on easels, and several people sat at the tables with datapads in their hands. They did not wear uniforms, but rather brightly-colored pins that stated in simple lettering VOLUNTEER. Scattered on the tables were disposable cups, marked with the universal symbol for coffee, and used plates on trays, as if the volunteers had not left their posts for any reason all day and night.

"Register here," Dr. Olden said. He gestured to the tables, which were disappointingly free of survivors. Ellie and I, thought Isaac, would probably be the last two. "If you do not need anything further, I'll be leaving you. Though," he said, after a chilly pause, "I'll see you in the ER when you pass out from your injuries."

Isaac remained where he was, though eager to be parted from Dr. Olden's company. "I'm fine. Thank you, Doctor."

Dr. Olden's face squinted, like he'd tasted something sour, and he curtly nodded. He walked away from Isaac, and his back soon disappeared behind the wide, self-opening door that allowed Rhea Station employees and civilians passage into the heart of the station from the docking hub. When the door closed behind Dr. Olden, Isaac approached the table. No one had questioned him about keeping up his visor; no one seemed interested. That, at least, was a small favor.

"Welcome," said a woman with sleek brown hair. She had a way of speaking that sounded friendly and warm, without any of the culture that Unitologists worked into their speech. "You're here from the Sprawl?"

Isaac felt some of his tension ease. "Yes."

"Good to have you here, sir. I jist need you to answer a few quick questions, and then we can get you a place to rest your head. If at any time you feel you can't answer the questions, jist say so, okay?" A warm, toothy smile. "Awright. Ready?"

"Ready." Or, he added silently, as ready his battle-weary brain could be.

The questions were not personal questions, but ran along the lines of where he was when the evacuation began, what did he witness, how he survived the terrorist attack- -and _that _question was certainly telling in and of itself- -and of course, did he know of or anything about Isaac Clarke? Answering the question was as easy as telling her that in the confusion, he'd not seen much, and lying about the rest. She didn't give anymore away about what the general populous believed had happened at Titan, and Isaac thought it wise not to press for answers yet.

"Did you come in with anyone else?" she asked after he'd finished responding to her last question.

"Yes. Ellie Langford. She was taken by a medical team for treatment. I don't know where, though."

The woman fiddled around with her datapad for a moment. "Ah, yeah. Ellie Langford has been checked into Rhea Station General Hospital. We'll set both of you up nice and pretty. Here," she reached underneath the table for a moment and when she withdrew her hand, she held forth two credit chips. "There're five hundred credits on each of these for you'n'her. Spend it on food and clothes. Your room is free for now, so don't worry about rent. Once all the refugees are organized, we're holding a meeting to discuss the events on Titan Station. From there, the CEC and EarthGov'll take care of displaced employees and such like. Also, the local Unitologist church is holding a prayer meeting this afternoon at fourteen-hundred hours. If you're interested, that is."

"No," Isaac said, controlling the spark of anger that ignited in his chest. "Where are we staying?"

"The Grand," she said. "I'll download the coordinates to your RIG, but you can get there easily enough without it. It's the center-point for all Rhea's community activities, so jist follow the crowd. I assume you want the coordinates of the hospital? There," she said, before he could answer otherwise, "done. We'll be keeping survivors updated through texts to your RIG, so don't worry about missing any important times or dates." She paused to shoot him a smile. "Any questions?"

"Thank you," he answered as he tucked the credit chips into his suit. "Out of curiosity…how many other survivors have there been?"

"Well, now, we had a dozen or so big shuttles come in all at the same time, and then a few stragglers here and there such as yourself. You're the first in a few hours," she said. "But considering the Sprawl was home to a population of over a couple hundred-thousand…very few survived whatever happened."

That was sad news indeed, but better than two people _total_. "I see. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Make yourself at home. People expect you to," she said and waved as he walked away from the table. "Take care of yourself, now."

He waved back at her, and went to the door that Dr. Olden had exited through. He spread his hand against the holographic security button in the center of that sliding door. It sighed and opened for him with a gentle release of electronic tension. Isaac glanced at the height of the buildings, the solar glint, the looming rings and body of Saturn outside Rhea's protective layer, and held out his hand over the sidewalk. His waypoint sounded, and on the inside of his visor, he used a voice-command to display the coordinates for the hospital. Obediently, his waypoint changed and a brilliant blue streak of light shot forward and curled around a corner.

The Grand could wait. Ellie, and her condition, was his priority.

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**A/N:** Hope you enjoyed, everyone, as there's more to come. Next update: Aug. 11th.

_Lite edits 08/13/12._

_Lite edits 04/05/13._


	2. Rapid Recovery

**A/N:** Welcome back, dear readers and lurkers. This chapter has much more action and Isaac-angst. I hope you enjoy.

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**Chapter Two: Rapid Recovery**

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Isaac sidled up to the Rhea Station General Hospital, after having followed his waypoint through the byways that riddled the station and taking a tram to the correct quadrant, which curved around a giant glass dome. His brain lingered on that dome, but he couldn't think of what it could be, so he ignored it as unimportant. Few people were out, as it was early morning according to his chronometer. Even the usually busy hospital seemed subdued, silently awaiting the arrival of morning traffic. The few other EarthGov security guards he'd crossed had nodded respectfully and passed him by. This assured him somewhat that his identity had not been discovered.

The hospital itself was built like a black, multi-layer birthday cake with glass skylights and was sandwiched between staunch apartment complexes, which could be seen from the windows of the tram as it wound through the heart of Rhea Station. The flowing walls and ceiling were meant to break the monotonous corners and straight lines of the station, and like the docks, there were potted plants and bushes in nooks and crannies. He entered and stopped in his tracks a step inside the door. Discomfort washed his stomach with a queasy feeling; pinpricks trickled up his arms.

In front of him was a wide, curved reception area. White and grey jumpsuits sailed to and fro with the orange and green glow of holopads. A carpeted waiting area sat idyllic on his right and to his left and flanking the reception area were main hallways, as well as an elevator. Sounds and noises and a soothing, gentle female voice echoed through the hospital's broadcast system. All this he took in, recognizing that nothing seemed wrong, no danger presented itself, and yet, he couldn't convince his legs to continue. The last time he'd been in a hospital, he'd been tortured there for three years.

The last time he'd been in a hospital, hell had broken loose.

"Sgt. Ore," said a nasally voice that doubled Isaac's queasiness. "I see you've listened to reason and have come to receive treatment."

Isaac straightened his shoulders, ignoring the nausea, and looked ahead to Dr. Olden, his gangly frame propped on the reception desk like a broomstick with elbows. "I've come to visit Ellie. Where is she?"

"She's in surgery, will be for awhile. You should get some rest," Olden said. "Let me treat you. There's no point in waiting around half-alive."

"Take me to see her." Isaac didn't want to make waves, with being a wanted criminal and everything, but Ellie was all he had. He wasn't taking any chances with her. "I know I can't enter surgery, but I can at least observe from the outside."

Olden's eyes burned with gleeful hostility. "That's out of the question, I'm afraid. The surgery floor is off-limits to the general population."

If it hadn't been for that snide tone, Isaac could've let it go. But the doctor took pleasure in refusing Isaac's one, small wish, pleasure that was bred from the comfort of control. Anger swelled like the tide before a mega-hurricane in his chest, stoked to white-hot temperatures and freely consuming reasonable patience. A red haze filmed over his vision. Steel hardened into his spine; steel layered from facing Necromorphs by the dozens, having been stabbed in the back twice and the eye once, and his mood chilled the temperature around them thirty degrees.

"Olden," Isaac stated, speaking slowly, articulately, but with bitter ice streaking his words, "You _will not _stop me from seeing her."

By the end of Isaac's sentence, the doctor's face had paled, graying under a sweaty sheen, as he leaned hard back into the reception desk. Knuckles were chalk-white gripping the edge of the desk; lips peeled back into a sneer. A tremor shook the doctor.

"I'll call security on you for your disorderly conduct, Ore." Olden's best threat was one Isaac had outwitted and beaten already. Besides, Olden's hands gripped the desk too tightly to be of much use for notifying security. "I won't allow you to trespass on this hospital's ground any longer."

Isaac shifted, subtly, squaring himself up as he invoked the memories of what he'd done to survive- -how he'd killed Stross and Tiedemann, how frail the human body could be rendered when twisting joints out of sockets or stabbed with a screwdriver- -and through his visor, he eyed the cowering doctor.

"You do that," Isaac said, purposely lowering his voice, "and see what happens."

Several interminable moments came and went as Isaac stared down Olden, sure that the visor's display would splinter and crack from the intensity of his glare or that security would shoot him where he stood. Finally, Olden snapped his head to the side. Isaac saw that he and Olden had gathered a loose crowd of onlookers, mostly hospital staff who'd seen the confrontation. Anxiety clouded their faces and an unnatural silence had settled over them.

"Dr. Greggs!" Olden sounded shrill. A younger doctor- -with neutral features, brown hair and eyes- -came forward. "Dr. Greggs. Escort Sgt. Ore to surgery to observe Ellie Langford. I have rounds!"

Without further conversation or a farewell, Olden fled from Isaac's presence and winged around a corner with surprising speed. Someone clapped; the other onlookers joined in, and soon Isaac felt a hearty pat on his shoulder- -thankfully, the _good _shoulder. Startled, he glanced around, unsure of the ovation.

"That was epic," said Dr. Greggs, hand dropping. A silver stud glinted in his left ear. "Dr. Olden has a massive superiority complex. We, the underlings," he gestured to the people who were now dispersing and they had, Isaac saw with disconcertment, grins a mile wide, "have to orbit around it everyday. I think you cracked his planet," he continued as he led Isaac around the reception desk to the elevator. "Boy, wait'll I tell first shift about it."

"I didn't mean to cause a conflict," replied Isaac. _Yes, yes, you did_, whispered an accusatory thought that sounded like his mother. _How could you make waves? Olden'll contact EarthGov about you and you'll be arrested or killed. _Then_ what'll happen to Ellie?_ His head swam. As he stood next to Greggs in the elevator, his legs felt rubbery. The door swished shut, confining them, and as Isaac discreetly leaned against the side of the elevator, he said, "He doesn't understand what she means to me."

"No one's had the balls to stand up to him when he's in a bullying mood," Greggs said, dark eyes cheerful. "I'm sorry for carrying on, but you have no idea the hell Olden puts us through. It's nice seeing him get a swallow of his own medicine." He chuckled at his own joke, and a beat of silence elapsed when Isaac didn't laugh. Greggs sobered. "So Olden said Ellie Langford?"

"Hm-hm." The world spun, spun, spun sickeningly.

"You guys from the Sprawl? I heard there was some weird shit going down out there," he said. The elevator sighed open and Greggs strode forward into a long, starkly lit and barren hallway that branched out and wound around glassed-in surgery rooms. Isaac followed behind, half-listening to Greggs, too focused on winning the battle with his balance. This dizziness had come from nowhere and pummeled him all at once, muffling Greggs' voice. "Not many people seemed to have survived it, whatever _it _was. Ah, here we go."

They came to a standstill at one of the glassed-in surgery rooms. Another doctor and an assistant stood over a sheeted figure lying prone on a table. Isaac could make out dark hair- -the curvy body was definitely female- -and the monitors looked to be steady, the doctor sure of his tools as he hunched over Ellie's head. Isaac put his hand on the glass and pressed, wanting to pass into the surgery and stroke her hair. He was so sorry about forcing her to babysit Stross, who'd ended up ruined beyond salvaging, and unnecessary.

"A terrorist attack," Isaac said as an afterthought, darkness swarming his vision, "that EarthGov had eyes on. But EarthGov chooses what to see in the end."

The lengthy pause had Isaac turning into an appraising look from Greggs. He said, "You know, you're slurring pretty badly, and your RIG is almost in the red. Have you been checked over?"

A warning chimed in the back of Isaac's mind. He scrambled internally for an appropriate response or to move his weighted limbs, but the dark enclosed his vision fully, and Isaac felt his hand slide off the glass as gravity pulled him into a humming, dark void. Jerking awake, he came to in the apartment he'd shared with Nicole a lifetime ago, and instinctively he knew this was their last night together before her fateful tour aboard the _Ishimura._

He settled back into the nest of covers, rolling to his side to watch Nicole- -but she was awake, her pretty face close to his on the pillow. Her eyes were dreamy as she traced the side of his face, a gentle touch with the pad of her finger. "Destroy them all, Isaac."

"What?"

"The Markers." Her palm caressed his cheek. "Make us whole."

"I…I _did_. The Markers are destroyed."

She frowned, a tiny scowl to tell him she thought he was being difficult. "No. They aren't."

Darkness blanketed him the next instant. Instead of succumbing, Isaac struggled against it, writhing in its vise-like grip, sure that he'd been knocked out from a Necromorph attack and had precious seconds to gain his feet and fight the fuck out of them before they killed him. Razor-sharp pain lanced into his shoulder, his left hand screamed with agony when he hit it against something hard.

The pain chased back the darkness. Isaac found himself eye-level with the floor, his cheek registered cold hardness. Shit. His visor. Had Greggs seen? Using his not-useless arm, he levered himself up to his knees to allow the visor to shutter over his face. Warmth crawled along his skin under the suit at his hand and shoulder. To the side, Greggs was also getting to his hands and knees. The fluorescent lights glinted off something that rolled near Greggs' hand- -a syringe? Half-freaked out already, Isaac's marginal control ceased to exist.

"What the fuck did you stick in me?" he growled, hauling up Greggs by the uniform-front. "What was it?"

A ripe welt bruised Greggs' brow. Dazed, Greggs stuttered, "You-you p-passed out. It was to help re…revive you."

Mistrusting Greggs as he'd mistrusted most doctors since he'd woken up in the middle of an outbreak, Isaac didn't immediately release him. "What else? What else did you do?"

"Nothing."

The steel-clad spine was in place again, as was the predatory tone inflicted on Dr. Olden. "Don't lie to me."

Composure had come over Greggs, even under Isaac's fury, and he gripped Isaac's wrist. The touch was firm, yet gentle. His voice quieted. "Easy. You're bleeding heavily…it's seeping through your suit." Greggs' hand curled around Isaac's clenched fist in the uniform, prying loose those closed fingers. "The Celatonin-4 will wear off in a few minutes, and then you'll be back face-down on the floor unless you sit and get some blood in you and let me look at that shoulder."

As if responding to Gregg, Isaac's shoulder howled- -the painkillers must've worn off- -and reluctantly, he stepped out of Greggs' space. Greggs tugged to straighten his mussed uniform then leaned to pick up the syringe on the floor. He jerked up too quickly, startling Isaac into a defensive stance, but Greggs smiled.

"Sorry, man," he said, slipping the empty syringe into his pocket, "didn't mean to surprise you."

Warnings blaring in his mind, Isaac waited for Greggs to accuse him of destroying Titan Station and the _Ishimura_, and that R-Sec had been notified. Greggs said none of this, but, instead, swept a hand to a side room opened from the hallway. Keeping a few steps out of reach, Isaac cautiously followed Greggs to the room and stood at the doorway, watching as Greggs gathered various medical supplies from cabinets and drawers inside the room. The room had several feet spread from the open glass doorway to the back wall that supported all the cabinets, drawers, and a sink. To the left and right were gurneys and an IV tree flanked each bed.

"You better have a seat," Greggs said over his shoulder. "Otherwise, you're liable to pass out again…Mr. Clarke."

When Greggs dropped Isaac's name, the world receded. Isaac's brain raced through possibilities- -one of them the serious consideration of homicide- -but reason bettered his judgment. If Greggs had wanted to, he'd have already summoned security. But ever-present paranoia spoke up. Did Greggs seek to blackmail Isaac? Or would he threaten Ellie? Was there a reward on Isaac's head that he didn't know about? So many questions and not enough answers.

"You know who I am?" Isaac asked, clenching and unclenching his hand that sported the kinesis module. A few loose instruments in the side room could render Greggs unconscious or in a pinch, dead.

Greggs snorted as he arranged the medical supplies on a tray near the tightly-made gurney, seemingly unaware of the lethal intent in Isaac's thoughts. "Heh. _Everyone _living under a rock knows who you are. Your face is plastered on every vidscreen in the Sol. Obscure, you aren't."

Greggs' motivation did not appear to Isaac. He said, "What do you want?"

"Right now, I want you to sit and let me examine you. Then you're getting some blood and staying off your feet," the doctor replied. "I'll put up the privacy screen so the nosy hospital security guards don't get an eyeful."

Isaac remained where he was. "I don't trust you."

The other shrugged. "I don't blame you. But you're bleeding out and are suffering from exhaustion. You know I haven't ratted you out yet, when I could've done it when you were kissing the floor. Also," here, Greggs nodded to Ellie's surgery room, "she needs you healed."

That was a low blow, appealing to his need to keep Ellie safe, but Greggs had touched the correct combination of buttons to unlock Isaac's agreement. Tentatively, Isaac stepped further into the room to hop onto the gurney, willing to take a chance with Greggs this once. His shoulder, no longer a minor annoyance, radiated hot waves of pain, and Isaac's hand sang from its previous encounter with Greggs' face. Greggs, in the meantime, had punched in a code on the inside of the door. The glass that enclosed the room went dark, shading the two men from cameras that lurked outside in the hallway. Lights inside the room adjusted to brighten the sudden dimness.

"Okay, Mr. Clarke. You'll need to put down your visor and allow me to examine under your suit," Greggs said. "What's your blood type?"

Isaac activated the visor control with his chin. "It's A-positive."

"Then you must've graduated with honors," joked Greggs. Isaac refused to be humored. When Greggs stood at Isaac's side, he'd put on some gloves. "I'm going to get a saline drip and your blood-transfusion going."

Keeping a watchful eye, Isaac allowed Greggs to manipulate the glove and gauntlet to peel away the suit from its seam on the underside of his forearm. Some of the bare skin was Isaac's dusky hue, speckled with freckles, but mostly was a roiling riot of colors.

Greggs prodded into the blackish purple flesh. "Hm. Some fresh bruising here. Actually, _significant_ bruising." He rubbed an alcohol swab over the skin and tapped Isaac's arm a few times to raise up a vein. After a minute, Greggs stuck the needles into veins at the crease of Isaac's elbow. "Time to patch you up, Mr. Clarke."

"Will you stop saying my name," Isaac said. Some dizziness had returned; the doctor looked a bit fuzzy. "I don't want anyone else knowing who I am."

Greggs smiled and held aloft another syringe and a clear bottle of liquid. "Sure thing. This is a local anesthetic. The one you're _not _allergic to, that is."

"Good to know." Isaac glanced through the shaded windows across the hall to Ellie's surgery. The doctor, his help, and Ellie were still there. "How long until Ellie's out?"

"I'd say a couple hours. O'Meyer is a pretty damn good surgeon, especially in facial reconstruction and eye replacement. She's in good hands." Greggs paused. "You know, not all of us think you're the bad guy, Isaac."

Isaac let the comment hang. What else had EarthGov spun lies about? How much of EarthGov was Unitologist, anyway? But according to what Tiedemann had said during the last few hours he was alive, EarthGov was working separately on harnessing the power of the Markers; the Unitologists and EarthGov seem to be at odds. Isaac could understand that. The Unitologists would want the Marker to enrich their beliefs and religion; EarthGov wanted the power the Marker held over man. Fucked up, whichever it was, and he and Ellie were caught in the middle of the power struggle.

Greggs had finished with Isaac's hand and sealed it with a fast-acting, numbing adhesive. Then he stood, got a few fingers under the flesh of the suit at the spine and worked it away from Isaac's shoulder wound. The hospital's cold air spread out across his back; he couldn't help the shiver from rippling through him and raising tight pimples on his skin. Greggs continued stitching up Isaac's injury, and when he finished, used the same type of adhesive to seal the skin.

"I'll prescribe a sedative and a painkiller, which'll be available in the pharmacy, if you have the time. The painkiller's a biggie, so twice a day, morning and night, before meals. The sedative is for nighttime, as you're going to bed." Greggs snapped off the gloves. "The adhesive will fall off when the wounds have healed, and try not to move around too much the next few days…though I have the feeling you're going to anyway. You're lucky that no major muscles were affected. You'll have full range of motion in a week or two."

Greggs helped replace the suit's skin at Isaac's back; automatically, the suit meshed together to become whole. Isaac held Greggs' gaze. "Why are you helping me?"

"Like I said," Greggs' smile was affable, "not everyone swallows the lies EarthGov calls fact. I think if you were half the terrorist EarthGov says you are, you'd have killed off Rhea Station by now." He grabbed his holopad and typed up a few things. "And I don't think you'd be concerned about a girl young enough to be your daughter."

Isaac wasn't sure how to respond to the comment, so he didn't. "I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"It's not gonna," replied Greggs. "At least, not from me. You rest here and keep an eye on your Ellie. I'll be back to check up on you and take you wherever they put her so you can be there where she comes down from anesthesia."

"Thank you. But I still don't trust you." Isaac couldn't help the feeling that as soon as Greggs left, security would come swarming in from all entrances. "Sorry."

"Nah. No apology necessary. You focus on keeping out of trouble," Greggs said, from the door. "I'll try to prevent people from sniffing you out as long as possible, but I've got the feeling you have little time."

"Probably, and with Olden as my new 'friend'," replied Isaac, "my time has shortened considerably."

"You leave him to me, since you've softened him up. I'll see you in a couple hours. Rest."

And with a final, serious look, Greggs parted company. Isaac scooted further into the gurney, and eased backwards to try and relax, and though the numbness remained in his shoulder, the pressure was uncomfortable. His muscles were rigid from anxiety and stress, so he inhaled deeply and exhaled through his mouth- -an old meditation trick. Inhale…exhale. The grip he'd kept on himself loosened as minutes ticked by, loosened, loosened, and the dim lights became dimmer, until he couldn't hold open his eyes any longer, and he plunged into a dreamless, dead sleep.

Wailing emergency sirens bolted him upright. _Necromorphs_, was his first thought, and his second thought: _Ellie_. Heart pounding, senses reeling, he glanced wildly about. He noticed he'd been moved from the room where Greggs treated him, and when he forced calm on himself to gain his bearings, he saw a sign on the ceiling in the hallway indicating he was in Patient Care.

Through the announcement system, the feminine voice of the hospital spoke over the ruckus. "This is a code delta. All personnel remain at your stations. Rhea Security has been deployed. All systems on lockdown."

Fuck. It was happening again. To his side was another bed, and though the klaxon alarms spurred him, he took the time to look at the occupant. Relief stung his eyes. Resting comfortably, dark hair a halo around her head, one eye covered with a patch, was Ellie. She wore hospital-issue white jumpsuit and soft, cloth-soled shoes. Good enough. He ripped out the IV needles from his arm- -the bite temporary- -fixed the glove and suit, and got to his feet to stand at her side.

He should leave her here. He would ruin her life, like he ruined her symmetrical beauty, and she would find nothing but heartache and misery with him. EarthGov could use her against him or vise-versa, and it was _she _who told him people were a liability. And it was _she _who'd barreled through the roof of the research facility after he'd killed the Marker and told him to get off his ass, she wasn't leaving him, and calling him a selfish bastard on top of it all.

"Christ," he said, stroking her hair as he'd wanted to earlier, "I can't leave you."

She was not connected to any IV, so Isaac went ahead and scooped her up, knowing he didn't have the time to search for a wheelchair, and bore the pain with clenched jaw. His shoulder did _not _like Ellie's limp weight, but he didn't have time for anything else. Sure, the bed had wheels, but not the maneuverability he thought he'd need in the minutes to come. With his hands full, he couldn't access his waypoint, so he used the signs on walls to guide him. The halls in Patient Care were disturbingly free of staff, so Isaac got to an elevator unmolested, and realized, shit, the hospital was on lockdown and only cleared personnel could unlock the elevator door. He had spun to search for another escape, when the elevator doors opened, and the sudden tug nearly put him off balance. Isaac's options were to drop Ellie and fight or to keep her close, but when he turned, neither of those options was necessary.

"Thank God I found you," said Greggs, flush, panting for air. The doors closed on them. "You were right about Olden. He contacted EarthGov, and they uploaded vids of you on the gunship you came in on. After that, it was a matter of retracing your steps."

"They're on to me, is what you're saying."

Greggs nodded. "You're a lucky son of a bitch that I was your doctor today. I'm going to get you two out of here in one piece if I can."

"That's what the doctor ordered," Isaac answered wryly. He adjusted Ellie in his arms. "Why is she not awake from all this noise? The anesthesia?"

"Hah. Leave the jokes to me. And yes, the anesthesia." The elevator door slid open and when they quickly exited, Isaac saw they were in a maintenance area. "Keep close. There's an employee access point down here that security won't think to check right away."

Greggs wound through a few small alcoves with Isaac hot on his heels. The alarms quieted; the hospital's voice stated again the emergency, and for all personnel to remain at their stations. Silence rang in Isaac's ears as a trickle of sweat ran down his back. They seemed to be in a workshop of a kind, due to all the tools and machines scattered around. Then Greggs accessed a room labeled 'Storage'. Long rows of supplies, neatly stacked and labeled, filled the largish room, and Greggs headed toward the back, where he opened another door that let out into a smaller, side corridor.

"These are the access tunnels the maintenance crew uses," Greggs explained unnecessarily. "We can follow these to the shuttle bay for the hospital and get off this rock."

"Wait. Listen." Isaac's ears, ever attuned to the dangerous scurrying that preceded a Necromorph attack, had picked up the faint, yet steady beat of heavy footfalls echoing around the metal of the narrow corridor. Rhea Security. "R-Sec is coming."

Greggs cocked his head. "You're right. Any bright ideas?"

* * *

**A/N:** I heart Greggs. Anyway, let me know what you think, folks, as I always look forward to hearing from you. Next update: Aug.18th. See you then!


	3. Oh, This Again

**A/N: **Welcome back, dear readers and lurkers. I hope you had a productive week and are ready for a restful weekend with your favorite insane engineer! Please, enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Oh, This Again**

* * *

Isaac didn't bother to say he was full of ideas, and that they were bad, and possibly, absolutely, fatal. Greggs would find out soon enough himself. Isaac went back into the storage room, speaking over his shoulder. "You got any dangerous equipment lying around?"

"This is the equipment repair area, so yeah, most likely. Why?"

"Here, take Ellie and find a wheelchair for her. I'm going to do some shopping," Isaac replied, transferring the limp woman to another set of arms to free up his. "If I'm the terrorist EarthGov makes me out to be, we can use that to our advantage."

Greggs barked a short laugh. "I gotcha. There'll be a wheelchair around here somewhere. I'll leave you to your designs."

Isaac didn't reply. The shelves were mostly stocked with equipment and supplies used generally by the hospital; no medicines were present, but there was a substantial stock of bleach and some other cleaning supplies that when combined, would be corrosive. He gathered as much as his arms could carry, found some duct tape, and hastily began pouring the chemicals. As a mechanical engineer, his knowledge of chemicals was limited at best, but sufficient enough to acquire the desired outcome.

When he put the finishing touches on his 'bomb', Greggs came into the storage room. "Hey. I found the wheelchair, but your girl wanted to get on her feet."

"Isaac!" Ellie stepped around Greggs and came up to him. Briefly, she embraced him. "Greggs brought me up to speed after I decked him."

Isaac looked over Ellie's head at Greggs, who rubbed his jaw. "She's got a mean right hook, doesn't she?"

"_Now _you're telling me," replied Greggs with a grimace. "I'd say she should be woozy from the anesthesia, but I'd be wrong." He sauntered up to look over Isaac's shoulder. "So…what's your grand plan, Mr. Clarke?"

"Smoke-bomb the R-Sec officers, stasis them, and slip through while they're immobilized."

Ellie groaned. "Oh, no. We've already hit the bad ideas stage of things, have we? If that's the case," she said, hefting up a hospital-issue plasma cutter, "at least we have a weapon. Found this on a bench. Do you think it'll work?"

"Ellie!" Isaac said, more out of joy than surprise. He took it from her and checked it over, his eye assessing the cutter like a doctor his patient. "It looks completely functional. You have plasma for it?"

At his question, she handed over a cartridge of plasma, which Isaac shoved into the cutter's feed-drive. Twelve rounds changed the red reader to blue. The marching boots had become considerably louder in the past few minutes; R-Sec was closing in on their position and things were about to get dicey, if not downright dangerous. Isaac disengaged his visor to gaze levelly at Greggs and Ellie.

"You have a chance to get out of this clean," he said to both of them. "You associate with me, EarthGov'll destroy you."

Ellie shook her head. "No. EarthGov can't get their way. It's not fair they're using you as their scapegoat. Like I said, I'm not leaving you."

Her eye was clear, determined, and her jaw set for a fight should he put up one. Much like Isaac showed courage and strength in dire situations, so, too, did Ellie. Face it, old man, he thought, she's sticking with you and no matter how many opportunities you take to cut her loose, she's coming back. Guess you'll have to deal with it.

To her side, Greggs smirked. "I hated working here anyway. Once we get to the shuttle bay, leave the rest to me."

"It's a deal. But Greggs," Isaac said, hoisting the cutter so the three small dots rested across the doctor's contracting throat, "don't cross me. I don't like killing, but I'm capable of it."

Greggs put up his hands in mock-surrender. "I read you loud and clear. You'll get no trouble from me."

"Good. You two," said Isaac, activating his visor again, "stay back. I'll draw their fire then set off the smoke-bomb and attempt to immobilize them. I've got one shot of stasis left, so if that doesn't work, I'll have to stall them. Once they're distracted, you make a run for it. I'll be right behind you."

"Isaac," Ellie said, "don't be a hero." Her warning was clear.

"I'll be right behind you. I promise. We ready?"

"Wait!" Both Ellie and Isaac looked over at Greggs, who fooled with his RIG a moment. "Here, I'm transferring the coordinates of the shuttle bay to your RIGs. If we get separated, at least you'll know where you're going."

Isaac and Ellie activated the coordinates on their waypoints, and then Isaac said again, "Are we ready _now_?"

Greggs and Ellie nodded, albeit anxiously, and Isaac stuck his head out the door to peer down the corridor to the right, where he guessed the security would originate. The boots were close, and though Isaac couldn't tell an exact number, he guessed there were four, maybe five, and then he didn't need to guess, because the four R-Sec soldiers rounded the corner at the end of the corridor, pulse rifles at the ready. Before they could take action, Isaac dashed from the cover of the door, lugging the bomb with him, and angled for a secondary side-corridor that would give him sufficient cover.

"Fire! Fire, _goddammit!_"

Pulse rounds pelted the metal corridor at Isaac's feet and side, but already he was around the corner, setting up the smoke-bomb. All it took was the twisting of a cap and some quick shaking. Feet clanked closer, rapid and short steps. Isaac slipped behind a crate partially blocking the corridor to wait, stasis hand at the ready. Hungrily, the smoke curled up into the confined space, crawling along the metal floor with long, caressing fingers. The soldiers came to the T-juncture, but stopped where the smoke created a thick, foggy screen.

"What the hell?" said one, waving his hand in a half-assed attempt to clear the air.

Fucking perfect. The smokescreen had worked, but the four R-Sec had blocked off the exit with their bodies; if Isaac currently hit them with stasis, he'd be trapped, so he crouched behind the crate to wait for them to move, a mouse hiding from the cat's claws.

"I can't see anything!"

"This shit is everywhere!"

Another, who had the air of command, said, "_Shut_ the_ fuck_ up! Hobbes and Legrange. You backtrack to that door we passed and stay on patrol. Shoot at anything that moves. Santiago, you're with me. Maintain radio contact at all times. Remember, soldiers, Isaac Clarke is a dangerous motherfucker. We will _not_ let him win. Is that clear?"

"HUA!"

"Move out!"

The two pairs separated. Isaac covered his visor with his arm to shield the glowing from them and waited for the commander and his grunt Santiago to pass. Hobbes and Legrange had disappeared from the entrance. Carefully, he crept forward, heart throbbing in his throat, and as he did so, he noticed a wrench on the top of the crate. That might be useful, so he picked it up.

At the site of his bomb, the smoke was thickest, hanging in the air, and the two R-Sec were shadowy forms standing at the door a few feet away. The main corridor extended left and right, and past R-Sec was where Isaac needed to go. He flung the wrench the opposite direction. It clanged and clunked into some other metallic objects, putting up a sizable cacophony, and Isaac saw that the distraction had gotten the attention of the soldiers.

"Stay here," said one, "I'll check it out."

Shit. Isaac hid his face in the crook of his arm, again shielding the visor's glow, and watched for the soldier's feet to cross his view. He had two options: one, take out both R-Sec- -the one exploring the noise first and then the second one; or take out the one in front of the door and possibly be flanked by the other one. Taking out both would also give ample opportunity for the commander and Santiago to return. The first R-Sec had walked into the fog clouding the other end of the corridor. Isaac decided to err on the side of saving time and lifted his hand to use his single charge of stasis on the R-Sec left behind. But when he activated the module, nothing happened. Fuck. His stasis module must've taken damage he hadn't noticed.

Only one thing to do. Before he could talk himself out of it, Isaac charged the lone soldier and caught him by unawares. He tackled the solid body, the pulse rifle clattered across the floor, and Isaac heard "_Oomph!_". Then he hammered the steel helmet with the plasma cutter. When the soldier, dazed, lay sprawled on the floor and didn't move, Isaac staggered to his feet, kicked the pulse rifle further away, and fucking ran for it.

As he ran, he activated the audio to his RIGlink. "Ellie, Greggs? Did you get away?"

"Yes!" Ellie replied. She was winded. "We went as soon as the soldiers ran by. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, but hoofing it. Is everywhere on-" The loud blare of alarms cut off Isaac and a calming voice went over the intercom. All along the corridor the white holograph for unlocked doors blinked to the locked orange holograph. "Dammit. They must've activated a quadrant-wide lockdown. You guys go ahead to the shuttle bay. I'll try and catch up to you."

Ellie's temper snapped through the link. "That's suicide and you know it! Hole up somewhere safe. We'll come get you."

"That's not going to happen…they'd find me and kill me. Let me know when you've made it to the bay."

He signed out before Ellie had the chance to respond, mainly because he knew what she'd say and secondly because he'd come to a dead-end. In front of him was an elevator and to the left was another door that was locked. The elevator was offline, but Isaac felt confident he could hack the system in enough time, and so he set aside the cutter.

Quickly, he tore off the side that housed the wires to control the elevator and shoved his hands up inside to fool with the innards. Behind him, he heard the thudding of metallic feet- -the soldiers must've rallied- -and unlocked the three joints that barred the elevator from him. He called the car, picked up the cutter, and readied to cover the corridor should he need to.

Out dashed two of the soldiers from around a curve, and Isaac fired off a couple shots from the plasma cutter. His shots scattered the pair, sending them diving back around the wall, and he didn't accidentally take off any of their limbs. A whoosh behind him signaled the elevator's arrival. In he leapt and slammed a fist on the holographic 'up' button. More pulse rounds dinged on the doors as they closed, and a few nicked through to shower the back panel with blackened holes.

Sick with relief, Isaac leaned his shoulder into the side of the car. Inside the elevator was enclosed. A couple advertisements brought in some garish color to the muted beige interior; one for Peng that he recognized showed a pouty-lipped beauty with purple and blue hair and heavy eye make-up.

As he studied the poster, waiting for the elevator to stop and open, he realized that he'd never get to the shuttle bay solely by hacking elevators and running around locked doors. The more he did that, the better chance of being killed or of killing. Isaac's reputation had been blackened by EarthGov, true, but he didn't want to prove them right. An outlandish, utterly stupid idea occurred to him then.

"Fuck, that's idiotic," he said to himself. He repeated Ellie's warning for good measure. "Don't be a hero."

But the idea was there and wouldn't leave his head. If he could get to the maintenance pathways outside the station- -in outer space- -he could coordinate a pick-up with Greggs and Ellie if they got to the shuttle and to him in time. Those pathways would be properly deserted. Security would have a difficult time accessing them in large quantities, and the lockdown procedure and lack of oxygen would screw over EarthGov as much as it did Isaac. Or if he couldn't get to those maintenance catwalks outside the station, he could shoot at the thin protective glass that separated breathable air from oxygen-less nothingness. It would pop like the film of a soap bubble. The resulting vacuum would blow him out of the station, and out of danger. Greggs could pick him up in the shuttle before Isaac asphyxiated in his suit.

His palms went clammy. Too many what-ifs in that idea, but what other option did he have?

"Isaac, okay, we're on the shuttle," said Ellie, breaking his thoughts over the audiolink. "What next? Dammit, Greggs!" she interrupted. "Start the system's check. _The system's check!_ It's that panel next to the…oh, for God's sake. Move over. I'm piloting this thing. You talk to Isaac!"

Greggs came on-link. "She kicked me out of the pilot's seat!"

At this time the elevator opened up, as if by divine suggestion, into a deserted atrium with plenty of glass holding in necessary oxygen and gravity. A cursory glance to the right showed a few levels of restaurants and open areas with chairs and tables; terraces sprouted out from the walls like toad stools, also with intimate seating arrangements. To the left, a pane of reinforced, specially-made glass separating him from the vastness of the universe. The view boasted of Saturn and her rings. It seemed as if the atrium had been recently evacuated, as it stood abandoned and cluttered.

Isaac swallowed thick trepidation. "You're tracking my RIG, right?"

"Yeah, we're reading you loud and clear. You've entered the hospital's food court."

"Good." Isaac walked to the center of the atrium, eyes gleaning over the beautiful galleria windows. Up a ladder towards the far corner, he saw a manual control panel that looked to control the automated decompression shutters of the atrium's large floor to ceiling windows. The whole thing was operated from a trolley on a track hanging from the ceiling. He headed over there. "About how far away, seconds-wise, do you think you are?"

"I'm guessing about two or three minutes."

"More three or two?"

A long pause on Greggs' end. "Isaac. What're you thinking?"

"I'm blowing this atrium's window out. I'll be free-floating in space until you can pick me up," he said as he mounted the ladder. His shoulder ached with each rung, but was holding; his hand was stiff, sore. "I won't last if I have to scramble around this entire damn station trying to get through locked doors and trigger-happy security."

"So _that's _your solution? Are you _insane_?"

"Yeah. Probably. Tell Ellie to step on it. This'll be tight."

He signed off to focus on reaching the catwalk far above the atrium, which after another minute of rushed climbing, he mounted. The control panel for the atrium's shutters had been broken into six different sections, according to position. Isaac's intent was to blow out _one _window, not all of them, because the shutters were paired, two to each window (top and bottom) and would snap together in the middle to minimize damage to the station. If he didn't jam the shutters, then there was a possibility that when they snapped closed, he could be cleaved.

Also, he didn't want a bunch of pissed soldiers floating around shooting at him like a fish in a barrel if _all _the windows blew. And speaking of soldiers, a line of them came out on the level up from the ground floor of the atrium. Isaac was above them, near the rafters of the place, and knelt out of view as he ripped off the siding of the correct control panel, his time steadily running out.

"ISAAC CLARKE," a man's voice crackled from the station's announcement system, "YOU ARE TO CEASE AND DESIST. SURRENDER. YOU ARE SURROUNDED! I REPEAT, YOU ARE TO CEASE AND DESIST."

"Yeah, right," he breathed as he fiddled with the damn wires to the atrium's third shutter. At least they hadn't shot at him, realizing they could shoot out the windows by accident. "A couple more seconds."

Then his RIG opened a holovid, displaying an older woman with her whitened hair loose and tumbling over her shoulders. She could've been someone's grandmother, but Isaac's eyes were immediately drawn to the black Marker pin on her uniform front. "Mr. Clarke. I'm Millicent Daniels," she said, "Director of Operations on Rhea Station. I think we both know you have nowhere to run. Give in willingly and no harm will come to you."

But Isaac's brain had hung up on Millicent's last name, Daniels. Daniels…as in Kendra? "You'd love that, wouldn't you?" he answered, finally splicing together the right two wires. The control panel told him there was a malfunction in the third shutter and to please notify a technician. Isaac ignored it. "I bet you'd love to find out what happened to Kendra, and not the terrorist bullshit EarthGov fed you."

It was a shot in the dark, but his remark hit the intended target. The old woman's face went from magnanimous to snarl in a half-second flat. "What do you know about my daughter? I demand you tell me immediately!"

"Sorry, ma'am, I'm in a hurry here," he answered, "so fuck you."

Then he terminated the link the same time he punched the button to engage the trolley. It lurched to a start, and the soldiers below him did _not _like that. A few opened fire, but abruptly stopped. Isaac was halfway to the third shutter, and deciding that sooner was better than later, he shot out the glass of that window. Chaos reigned. More sirens blared and blinked as the atrium went into sudden decompression. The vacuum of space was voracious.

Most of the soldiers' suits magnetically clamped to the metal floor as soon as decompression hit; a couple of them held on to their buddies who had been knocked off with airborne objects. Tables and chairs went careening into open space, flying out of the breach as the other shutters rolled over the windows smartly. His suit already feeding him oxygen, Isaac jumped off the trolley, using his suit's stabilizers to gun himself into the vortex, and as he hoped, space sucked him right out of the atrium.

"Ellie, if ever there was a time for you to crash my party, now's _it,_" he said into his open RIGlink.

To his relief, Ellie chuckled, the sound crackling over the channel. "You're entrusting a lot to a one-eyed pilot, you know. I've officially become a pirate."

"I thought pirates were supposed to be the best pilots?" he asked, searching for the shuttle in the void of space. He didn't see it among the station's line-scape. Detritus from the atrium plumed in the zero-g as he boosted further away from the open atrium to gain a measure of circumference. "We'll have to get you a bird for your shoulder."

"Can it you two," Greggs cut in. Anxiety carved his words. "You must've pissed _someone _off, Clarke. Looks like all available R-Sec are reporting to gunships with the order to apprehend you at any cost."

"Christ. When can you get here?"

"How about…_now_?" Ellie said, for dramatic effect, Isaac supposed, as the white and red painted shuttle flew from between the jagged, black metal skyscrapers of Rhea to his location. The hospital shuttle nosed forward, sleek, gliding like a fish in water. "There you are, lovely."

It was then a rifle's laser-sight flicked over Isaac's suit. "Hurry it up!"

Even as he said that, he saw that a gunship was hard on the shuttle's tail.

"Shit, Ellie! Behind you!"

It was terrifying how close the gunship's pulse rounds came to the shuttle, but he had his own problems. The laser-sights speckled the debris around him and were dangerously near his body. He used kinesis to draw a table in front of him to block his body from view. Hopefully all the junk floating around him would give him cover, but his main concern was his swiftly depleting oxygen levels. Then the table in front of him exploded into shards. Isaac saw several more lasers swinging through the darkness of space; a chair and a potted plant were the next to explode; shattered bits sprayed him. R-Sec was smart. They were destroying his cover piece by piece.

"We're coming in under you. Use your suit to attach to the hull. An emergency hatch up top should let you in," Greggs said. "Hang in there for a couple more seconds."

"Great," muttered Isaac.

"Mr. Clarke." Millicent Daniel's head and shoulders appeared, unwanted, on his RIG as he strafed to the left of some more laser-sights. Her wizened features were determined. "You underestimate my persistence and capacity to get what I want. I will hound you, Mr. Clarke, unto the ends of the universe. I will not stop. You will not-"

"Lady," Isaac interrupted as a pulse round fire grazed inches from his shoulder, "you underestimate how much I don't give a shit."

Again, he terminated the connection and hoped she got the hint. He used kinesis to draw another chair and table in front of him, but the soldiers were no longer afraid, and were emboldened even, by Isaac's vulnerable position. In short order, the table and chair were obliterated, and so Isaac again attracted the bits with kinesis and this time, shot them toward the soldiers. He scattered a group of them collected on the outside of the atrium, repeated it again, a third time, a fourth and fifth, but there were too many, pouring like ants out of the atrium window, and he couldn't keep it up for much longer without actually shooting to kill. Just as another five of the security officers took aim, the shuttle buoyed up underneath him.

Automatically, his suit latched to the surface, and he hustled to the emergency hatch and closed it, thereby compressing the compartment in the nick of time. His oxygen had been in the red.

"Isaac!" It was Ellie. "Hang on. Those gunships are after us. I'll have to evade them."

A muted explosion boomed outside the hull with enough force to toss Isaac into the closed door. Staggering, he managed to unlock the door, and cling to the railings to keep upright as more explosions rocked the vessel. The shuttle wasn't big, so in the next few seconds, he was able to enter the cockpit and strap himself into the systems and communications seat behind Ellie and Greggs, who occupied the copilot seat. A harder explosion threw him into the controls. Sparks showered through the small cockpit; the interface in front of Isaac went from steady blue to blinking orange.

"Fuck _me_," Ellie said. Isaac felt the ship swoop into a barrel roll. "They're serious."

"Navigation's out," Greggs said, pounding the unhappy interface. "Without it, we'll never make the coordinates I programmed in at lift-off."

"You guys hang tight. Let me see what I can do," Isaac said and unbuckled his harness.

He got on the floor of the cockpit, flipped to his back to shuffle under the dash, and popped off the panel to navigational control. It looked like a multi-color mess of wires. The drive wasn't fried, but there were a few wires smoking and torn from the proper receptacles. Working while the ship bucked to and fro, with Ellie's occasional curse, was trying, but after a couple light shocks, Isaac rewired the panel as cleanly as he could. Some complacent beeps occurred.

Greggs laughed in triumph. "Isaac, you're fucking _epic_. Nav's back on. Punch it, Ellie. This shuttle's got a 10-NT kick to its drive. State of the art."

"My pleasure," she answered.

As he strapped back into his chair, Isaac felt the ship increase in speed, and like she'd done in the gunship, Ellie's pressure to go faster shook the interior metal of the shuttle. Isaac thought it might be a good idea to hold the bolts to the ship before they rattled loose. The outside fireworks slowed and eventually stopped. They must've out-flown the gunships, or were being targeted for a final, deadly volley. Several tense minutes passed as they waited to know for sure which it was. The shuttle raced further into open space and everything went quiet for the next couple hours.

Ellie was the first to break the anxiety. "Where are these coordinates taking us? We're flying to the middle of nowhere."

"Be patient," Greggs answered.

But patience wasn't Ellie's strong suit. "Greggs, I swear if these coordinates are bad, you're _dead._ I _will_ throw you out the emergency hatch if-" She gasped. "Oh, my God. What the hell is that?"

Isaac craned his neck to look past Ellie. Against the white glint of the sun, the outline of a ship hung in the frame of the shuttle's windshield. The size of the thing…damn, it was the size of the _Ishimura_. Surely there wasn't a planetcracker vessel that size in commission, was there? The second-largest had been the USG _Jefferson_, but no way was that ship the _Jefferson; _the design of it wasn't planetcracker…it was…holy fuck, it looked to be a battlecruiser_._ And why would it be hanging around, hiding, _skulking_, in the glare of the sun?

"Greggs?" Isaac twisted in his seat to face the doctor. "Explain."

Greggs' smile was smug, pure and simple. "That, my friends, is the pirate vessel _Sweet Retribution_, headquarters to the Clarke Faction."

* * *

**A/N:** I apologize to those of you who are science nerds. I love sci-fi, but I'm terrible at being accurate and/or understanding science-type stuff, so if there's anything that is wrong, I hope that it didn't pull you out of the story. I wouldn't mind it if you let me know what worked for you. :) Next update: Aug. 25th. See you then!


	4. The Clarke Faction

**A/N: ** Welcome back, dear readers and lurkers. I hope your week went well and are prepared for another exciting chapter of your favorite Dead Space story.

* * *

**Chapter Four: The Clarke Faction**

* * *

"I'm sorry," Ellie said. "I thought I heard you say the _Clarke Faction_?"

Isaac was lost. "What's the Clarke Faction?"

"You'll find out once you meet Samson," Greggs replied. "He's the head honcho of the entire resistance, and I think he's been waiting a long time for an opportunity to meet 'the man'."

Ellie spoke over her shoulder to Isaac. "Good God. You're going to get a disgustingly huge head from this fuss over you."

"As long as they're not trying to kill, imprison, or torture me," Isaac replied. At least, he thought with measured certainty, not yet.

Their conversation died as Ellie piloted and Isaac sat, watching his interface for any malfunctions in the battered shuttle. Greggs kept his eyes forward to _Sweet Retribution_. Distance in space was warped. The ship had looked to be a few minutes away, but a few minutes were actually a couple hours. Eventually, the ship increased in size as they approached it. Bleeping interrupted their silence.

Greggs, reaching over to mash a button, said, "That's _Retribution _hailing us. I'll take care of the introductions."

"Rhea Station General Hospital shuttle zero-one-three," said a stern, male voice shot-through with static, "you are unwelcome in this area. Turn back immediately or you will be treated as hostile, I repeat, turn back or you _will_ be treated as hostile, over."

"_Sweet Retribution_, this Dr. Jeremy Greggs, code delta-romeo-alpha-ten-forty-nine-twenty and I've got _the man_ aboard this vessel. Roll out the welcoming matt." Greggs grinned over at Isaac. "Say hi to the folks at home, Mr. Clarke."

Isaac grimaced, hating to be put on the spot. "Hello? This is Isaac Clarke."

A long, interminable pause at the other end. Then, "_God_dammit all, Reg! If this is another stupid prank of yours my steel boot will be up your ass so far that-" The audiolink became a holovid displayed in the upper-right hand corner of the shuttle's windshield, showing a heavily tattooed man with hair out in spikes. Whatever he'd wanted to say seemed to have evaporated on his tongue when his eyes settled on Isaac. He said, "Isaac Clarke," in a reverent, whispery way that stood up the hair on Isaac's arms.

"So do we have clearance to dock?" asked Greggs after an acceptable amount of staring had occurred between Isaac and Rooster. "Rooster? Fucking _hello_, Rooster!"

Greggs' annoyed reminder shook Rooster from whatever awe struck him. "Yeah," Rooster breathed, "yeah, Bay 4's open, Reg."

The holovid abruptly terminated. Ellie said, "That was weird."

"Yes, well, get used to it. Isaac's sort of a legend on _Retribution_," Greggs said. He tapped a few options on the interface. "I could hardly believe it myself when he fell on the floor at my feet."

Isaac sat in quiet contemplation behind Ellie and Greggs. He didn't know what to think, and he had about a million questions about _Sweet Retribution,_ this Samson guy, and what the hell an entire crew the size of the _Ishimura _was doing out here on the outskirts of Saturn territory on a battlecruiser. Isaac knew for certain that he would not let himself be manipulated as he was with Kendra, Daina, and Tiedemann. He'd enough of being the controlled; _he _would exert the control onward. His experiences on the _Ishimura _and Titan Station, particularly the EarthGov facility, would be ample resume for anyone who tried to fuck with him.

Ellie swung the shuttle under the broad belly of the _Retribution_. Guiding lights blinked the length of the ship, angles and spires jutted from several sections where Isaac knew there would be cannons and other weapons located. Auto-grav clamps latched onto the shuttle's hull and drew them upwards into a docking bay big enough to house the shuttle. Everything closed up, red lights glowed like coals, systems hissed and dinged warnings as the bay oxygenated, and soon everything was green-light go. Isaac hung back, people-shy, butterflies in his stomach, and let Greggs and Ellie precede him into the bay.

The crew of six people entered the bay through a heavily-fortified door. They wore casual clothing, but obviously worked in the bay, as their mismatched jumpsuits, shirts and pocketed pants were smeared with grease and a few fingers were bandaged. Several had tools in hand. Smiles everywhere as they rushed forward.

"Hey, Doc!"

"It's been awhile, Greggsie-baby!"

"Reg! Good to see you!"

Greggs was swarmed with these people; laughter, embracing, and hand-shakes all around. The crew's attention turned to Ellie, and they swallowed her with their celebratory noise. Ellie took it gracefully, laughing as one bear of a man swung her around like they'd been long-lost friends. Then a younger woman- -about Ellie's age if his guess was right- -on the outside of the group noticed Isaac keeping a reserved distance on the lip of the ramp let down to the bay floor. He hadn't wanted to leave safety, paranoid that someone would see him and attack or do something that would require retaliation. When the woman's light brown eyes connected with his, he shrank back, feeling out of place and suddenly exposed.

"Mary-mother-of-God," she said. Her hands went to cover her mouth, dropped to her chest then danced around until she grabbed the shirts of the two nearest crew. "Isaac Clarke. It's Isaac Clarke."

The exposure went nova when _every single eye _turned on him. His heart skittered in his chest as cold sweat broke out on his skin. A palpable hush blanketed the crowd in the bay. Then the woman who'd seen him came forward, slowly, as if she knew she would startle him away, and her face was wet with tears. She held out her hand, inching closer, which Isaac allowed if only because she seemed visibly upset. Her hand touched his arm, and the touch was so light through the suit's skin, she must've thought he was a ghost. There was a moment's worth of hesitation before she gripped more firmly.

"Isaac. Isaac, let us see you," she murmured, tone the epitome of childlike wonder, and tugged him from his hiding spot. "We want to see you."

Heart leaping into his throat, the woman holding tight his arm, Isaac stepped forward. Ellie's face in among the others comforted him, though he couldn't read her expression or possibly guess what she thought about everything. Greggs came to flank Isaac on the left, settling a friendly hand on his shoulder. The woman beside him had not taken her eyes off him yet, tears continued to streak her face; the others also seemed unable to break their stares. Isaac wanted to jerk free, leap into the shuttle, and fly the hell out of here.

Greggs said, "Everyone, Mr. Clarke has a meeting with the captain and Samson. We should be going."

"Will we see him again?" asked an anonymous man.

"That's up to them. Besides," Greggs' smile was soothing, "he and Ellie've been through hell. They need their rest. They need to _heal_."

The crowd bristled with discontent. Ignoring them, Greggs nudged Isaac forward, but the woman on his arm didn't move and didn't let go. She seemed determined to cling to him at that spot forever. Isaac didn't want to heartlessly yank his arm from her; at this point, he was extended half up the ramp by one arm and half down it with the rest of his body. Greggs saw the problem when Isaac stopped and if the mischievous twinkle in Greggs' eyes was any indicator, Isaac was on his own.

"Sorry, miss, but I need that arm," Isaac whispered to her, hoping to ease the awkward moment with humor.

She had a long, blondish braid over her shoulder and loose strands wisped around her dirty, teary face. "Lonnie," she told him, entranced. "My name's Lonnie. My brothers were on the mining crew at the Aegis VII colony."

"Lonnie, I'm sorry about your brothers." What the hell were you supposed to say to something like that? "I'm sure they were good men."

"Thank you, Isaac, thank you," she said. Her hand fell off his arm. "I'm with you. Whatever you need, I'm here."

He shot an uncertain look to Greggs, who had an amused smile twisting his lips. Isaac said, "Sure."

Lonnie's introduction seemed to set the precedent for the five others. He met Ally, Kyle, Dede, Big Mike (guess which one _he _was), and Manuel. Dede's younger sister and her father were on the Aegis VII colony; Big Mike's best friend, Manuel's sister, and Ally's and Kyle's spouses were all aboard the _Ishimura_. Isaac shook hands with them all, offered them condolences though three years belated, and accepted their apparent allegiance to him. When Greggs walked him and Ellie through the large double-doors exiting the shuttle bay, Ellie grabbed Greggs' arm and slammed him hard against the corridor wall, rattling the metal frame and stunning Greggs.

"You wanna explain what's up with these strangers pouring their life stories out to Isaac?" she said, her hand flat against Greggs' chest. Her eye glinted with her fury. "What have you gotten us into, _Doc_?"

Greggs put up his hands in supplication. "Look, I know this is unsettling. But Isaac is these people's closure. He's the _truth _of what happened to cherished loved ones. _Whole families _were lost on Aegis VII and now, on Titan Station. Even more on the _Ishimura_ and the _O'Bannon_. They see Isaac as a…a talisman, I guess. He's their connection to what happened."

Ellie gazed at Isaac, but did not relax her grip on Greggs. "You say the word, and we're outta here."

"Ellie…this may be the one safe place for us in the Sol," Isaac answered. "And besides, Samson might be able to fill in the gaps that I can't remember."

Her fury softened some. "You don't need to remember. You don't need to…to put yourself through it again. Isaac, you're finally free to do whatever you want. What's stopping you?"

Isaac looked askance to the double-doors leading into Bay 4. He saw Lonnie's tears, saw the compassion of the others as they shook hands with him, understood their grief as well as anyone, and wanted to know what he meant to them. If he fled from here, he had a feeling he'd be fleeing for the rest of his life. What kind of future would that be? He had no prospects, he was notorious and on the lam from EarthGov and the Unitologists, two of the most powerful organizations in the Sol. As unknown as _Sweet Retribution _was currently, it was at least a place better than where he _could _be. Ellie, too, needed their protection.

"I want to talk to Samson. There's no harm in that." Isaac glanced back to Ellie. "Besides, I'll have nothing to fear if _you're _my guard dog."

"Guard bitch," she corrected, and released Greggs, who exhaled a puff of relief. "But, Isaac…if it feels wrong to you, just…let me know."

Isaac smiled. "You'll be the first I tell. Greggs, take us to your leader."

"Ha-ha," Greggs said, humorlessly, "you're hilarious."

Greggs led them through a few more doors to the tram station. The people waiting at the shuttle bay's tram stop hushed when Isaac showed up, and they stared and whispered to each other. Isaac felt like a freak on display; embarrassment sent hot waves up his neck to his cheeks and ears. Greggs didn't take notice, but when Ellie slipped her hand into Isaac's, he accepted the small gesture of comfort from her. The tram ride was completed in utter, uncomfortable silence, as Isaac received the awe-stare from the passengers. Ellie's hand in his was a Godsend, and he needed it when, as they exited the tram to the bridge, the entire group of people reached out and touched his shoulders and arms, looking much like they couldn't believe he actually existed among them.

Entering the bridge was no different. As soon as Isaac stepped foot into the open-area that housed navigation, controls, and other ship systems, the first people who saw him paused to gaze at him. The pause rippled through the bridge from one person to the next until sole attention was on Isaac. They left their stations to enclose him, and like the people on the tram, they gently laid hands on him in wonderment and awe as he walked with Ellie and Greggs. Isaac noticed that the crew didn't wear uniforms, but an assortment of clothes and jumpsuits and were mended and darned and faded- -these people either could not afford new clothes or had no place to purchase them. One man barreled into shoulders, pushing the gawkers to the side, to halt in front of them.

In person, Rooster was a short man, stocky, and the tattoos that had been monotonous, plain ink over the holovid were alive with color, peeking from under collar and hem. When he spoke, he spoke to Isaac alone as if Ellie and Greggs were invisible. "Mr. Clarke, the captain and Samson are waiting for you in the captain's nest. This way, please."

Isaac was sure that Greggs had planned on going there anyway, but the doctor gave no indication to stop Rooster. Rooster took them forward to the elevator that would drop them into the captain's nest. Finally, alone in the elevator with two others, Isaac was thankful for a reprieve from staring eyes.

In the silence of their ride, Ellie said, "It's like you're an immortal …or…a god."

"He's the man," Greggs replied, as if that explained everything. "He's a living truth."

Ellie turned her eye to Isaac. He read her thoughts through her look: _This might be trouble._ Isaac squeezed her hand, and when the elevator opened, they went with Greggs into the captain's nest. Two people were there. The first one was much older, balding, with grey whiskers covering his cheeks and jaw. He wore thick glasses that distorted his eyes and a tan and beige uniform. He gazed at Isaac with a mixture of pride and joy. Isaac had the distinct impression that he'd met Samson somewhere before, but he couldn't think of where or when. To the right of the elderly man was a woman about the same age, maybe younger, as Isaac himself. Her hair was a thick, clean-cut black bob- -streaks of silver threading that ebony- -and she stood with such ramrod straightness in her back that there was no doubting her position as captain of the vessel.

"The Boss-man, who everyone around here calls Samson, and Cpt. Samson," Greggs greeted with a vague salute. "I bring you Isaac Clarke and his companion, Ellie Langford."

"Well done, Jeremy, and thank you." Then to Isaac and Ellie, the elder Samson said, "Welcome aboard _Sweet Retribution, _Mr. Clarke and Miss Langford. I hope that you will find your stay enjoyable here."

"What _are _we doing here?" asked Ellie. "What is this Clarke Faction?"

"Jeremy, why don't you take Miss Langford and make arrangements for her. I'm sure she needs her rest. Mr. Clarke and I have much to discuss."

The dismissal offended Ellie. Isaac felt her tense beside him and gear up for a fight. He agreed and felt the offense as well. Her hand clamped around his, and Isaac, refusing to allow someone else to call the shots, stiffened his shoulders. "She stays with me."

Samson notched his chin to the side, an old owl peering into the darkness for light. "I see. Then Jeremy, if you wouldn't mind leaving us? I'm sure you understand."

"Whatever you need, Boss-man. Am I dismissed, Cap?"

"You are," replied Cpt. Samson.

Greggs left the captain's nest, but Isaac's attention was on the captain herself. For a woman who had so far spoken a grand total of two words, Isaac heard the crystal-cold of liquid nitrogen in her speech. When he glanced at her, she gazed at him in frosty silence which was leaps and bounds from the wonderment he'd experienced so far on _Retribution_. He'd done something, either purposely or inadvertently, that had caused her to pierce him with such frozen distaste. Isaac had a feeling that he would need to evade a verbal barrage from her in the near future.

"And what is it that you do, Miss Langford?" Samson asked Ellie as they sat at a table. Cpt. Samson did not move to sit, but stood at attention beside the doctor.

Isaac waited to see if Ellie would humor Samson, and when she did, he relaxed his grip on her hand. "I'm a Class 4 heavy equipment pilot for the CEC. In mining operations, of course." Ellie nodded her head to Isaac. "I was making my great escape from the monster-infestation when I met Isaac there."

"Necromorphs," Samson said. He propped his fingers into a steeple in front of him. "EarthGov calls them Necromorphs."

Ellie snorted. "Whatever they are, they killed off an entire station."

"Yes, they did. And a colony. And a planetcracker ship. _And _a recovery cruiser." Samson paused. "All for power. All for religion. I had no grudge against Unitology and what its vision was, and I didn't deny my childhood friend Matty, Cpt. Mathias of the USG _Ishimura _that is, from his beliefs. But Unitology changed him, corrupted him." Samson looked more an old man than he did when Isaac arrived a few minutes ago. "And then Unitology killed him. Belief in that damned Marker killed him, killed him, and thousands of other people."

"That's what _Sweet Retribution _is?" asked Isaac, after considering the stories of people he'd met so far. "A home for people with plans for revenge against Unitology?"

Samson chuckled. "You get ahead of me. After Aegis VII, the _Ishimura, _and the _O'Bannon_ went dark, EarthGov blamed the destruction and death on Dr. Isabel Cho, but she is another story. EarthGov tried so _hard _to get rid of all the video and audio files left behind on those ships, but it couldn't resist storing some information instead of destroying it. I…acquired…the files. And do you know what I saw when I watched those long, horrifying hours of video?" Samson had leaned forward in earnest. "I watched a lone engineer battling through the halls of the _Ishimura, _killing one after another of the Necromorphs with stasis, kinesis and a plasma cutter, which ended in the destruction of the Red Marker- -the idol for Unitologists and EarthGov. And nobody knew."

A long sigh punctuated the monologue. Samson continued, "Then I understood what I must do. Three years ago, EarthGov had captured you, preparing to replicate a Marker on Titan Station based on your knowledge of the Red Marker. However, they'd left thousands of loved ones in grief and with false ideas, and so to spread the truth, I began organizing the Clarke Faction, named in honor of you and your struggles. We've been waiting a long time for you, Mr. Clarke."

"This is well and good, but what's it got to do with Isaac?" Ellie asked. She flicked her hand in his direction. "He's a fugitive from the law! He's been experimented on, _tortured _for Chrissake, and what exactly do you expect of him? He's not some…superhero or whatever! He can't fix what's happened!"

Samson smiled benignly. "That may be true, but I think that we've spoken enough about Unitology and the like. The both of you need food, shelter, and rest, all of which you will find in ample supply here on _Retribution_. After you've settled in, we'll talk some more." His finger tapped a button on the holographic interface in front of him. Greggs' face appeared up on the screen. "Jeremy? Is everything prepared for Mr. Clarke and Miss Langford?"

"Yes. I've transmitted the directions to your living quarters and the cafeteria to your RIGs. I'm sorry, you guys," he said to Ellie and Isaac, "but I can't give you a grand tour. I've got a few patients to attend on the Medical Deck. I'll see you later."

"Thank you, Jeremy," Samson said as Greggs' display disappeared. He turned to address them. "Please feel free to roam the ship to your heart's content. Folks on board are more than accommodating."

Ellie shot to her feet, planting her hands onto the interface. "I'm _not _satisfied with your non-answers! Why is Isaac so important to these people? To _you_?"

"Miss Langford," Cpt. Samson answered, her gaze as penetrating as a drill-bit, "Isaac's important simply because _he lived._"

"Isaac!" Ellie turned her frustration to him.

Isaac didn't know how to placate her. Samson didn't want to reveal his hand to them at this time, and Isaac felt the doctor was keeping it from them to protect them. He couldn't be sure of anything. The best he could do was to remove Ellie from the situation and take the beating she would mete out on him in private, while they waited for Samson to tell them more.

Isaac stood and rested his hands on her narrow shoulders. "Ellie. These people have taken us in willingly. The least we can do is accept their hospitality and stay out of their way."

She looked contrite, but after a lasting glare, she huffed and crossed her arms. "All right, then. But for the record, I don't trust any of these people."

"Thank you, sir, and Captain," Isaac said, facing them. In that instant, the engineer in him noticed how similar they were structured- -the shoulders, shape of their faces, and the eyes, particularly: a father-daughter team, if his eye for detail told the truth. "Thank you both for offering us a place to lay low. We'll be available should you need us."

Samson's smile creased his eyes. "We'll talk when you've rested."

Isaac nodded once, and when he glanced at the captain, she favored him with a lingering gaze ripe with mistrust. He didn't drop his eyes. Like it or not, they were on the same team, apparently in the same social circle, and Isaac was capable of behaving, if that was her fear. His guess was that she disliked him for another reason, one that had to do with the _Ishimura_, regardless of the ship's mission before his arrival. They would've stood there another minute giving each other the stare down, but Ellie tugged on his elbow.

"C'mon," she said.

He broke the gaze and followed Ellie into the elevator, the intensity of the captain's look seared into Isaac's retinas. "The captain doesn't approve of me."

Ellie glanced sharply at him. "Let's leave. This whole Clarke Faction gives me the creeps."

"It's easy for _you _to say that. I'm a wanted man. There's nowhere I could go that I would be left alone," he told her as they stepped onto the bridge. Skylights let in the dark of space and twinkling white lights from the stars. All the crewmembers were at their stations and worked diligently at holographic interfaces as he and Ellie crossed to the exit. None stopped to gawk. He lowered his voice. "I don't trust the Samsons any more than you do, but we can at least stay to _heal_."

"But that's just it_,_" she replied, tapping the call button to the elevator that would take them to the main deck. She waited until they were safely in the elevator car to continue. "The longer we wait around, the more indebted we become, and the less likely we are to be able to leave."

She had a point. "Okay, so let's say we get on the half-destroyed hospital shuttle and force an exit from _Retribution_. Where to? That shuttle won't have the legs for a long-distance trip."

"I don't know. But we're better off by ourselves," she answered quietly. She put the palm of her hand over her replaced eye. "I can't help but feel that this Samson bloke has some very unpleasant plans for you. And I don't think he's told you everything."

His Nicole-dreams flared from memory in vivid clarity. She'd said something about Markers to destroy. Why would she have said that? Isaac _had _destroyed all the Markers. Hadn't he? He shook his head. Look at the _whole _picture, Clarke. Isaac's brain had created a new Marker, like a blueprint for a building. The Markers were powerful- -suggestive and intoxicating in his experience. Could it be that…fuck.

Horror dawned on him when he adjusted the scope of his thinking to the whole picture. It would be like Unitology and EarthGov to pull this sort of shit- -or the influence of the Marker, even. The schematics for a Marker probably had been shared with other researchers and research facilities. His mouth went dry; nausea washed through him. A swarm of blackness edged in on him.

"Isaac! You're white as a sheet," Ellie said. She squinted with her concern. "What's wrong? You look…shit, your eyes are wonky!"

Her voice went tinny, distant, and the black swarm completely enveloped his field of vision.

* * *

**A/N:** And how will Isaac cope with the realization that there might be other Markers? Remember, I enjoy knowing your thoughts and comments, so drop a note to let me know how you feel. The next chapter will be published Sept. 1st. See you then!


	5. Goal Alignment

**A/N: **Welcome back, dear readers and lurkers. Happy 1st of September and Happy Labor Day Weekend, for those of you who celebrate not working. Another chapter as promised has arrived. A bit of romance of the Isaac/Ellie persuasion occurs, which I'm very excited about. Please enjoy.

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**Chapter Five: Goal Alignment**

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The holographic screen cast blue luminescence into the dark, glowing over him in his bunk. Nicole leaned closer, her face intent as if she looked at him not through a video feed, but as if she sat in flesh and blood across from him.

"Isaac," she whispered, static disrupting her words, "destroy the Markers. Destroy what killed me. Atone for your guilt and be forgiven."

Her form stood in front of a pulsing image of a Marker- -not the Red one or the giant Gold one that Isaac had created, but a Marker that he'd never seen before, where the symbols flashed white against a slate-grey stone. Nicole's voice spoke to him, her tone sad, as the scope of his vision withdrew to a panorama of a station.

"The Site 3 Marker, Isaac. Do you recognize it? You've already met the official who's in charge." The station's shape and city-line were familiar. Rhea Station- -and Director of Operations there, Millicent Daniels. "Kill the Markers. Stop them from wiping out innocent people like me."

And abruptly the video feed cut off with a hiss.

When Isaac woke up, sweaty, he stared at the smooth, dingy ceiling to try and orient himself. He put the dream, or dreams, plural, out of sight inside his brain. His internal check- -Breathing? _Yes. _Heartbeat? _Yes._ Broken bones? _None that he could tell._ Pain? _Not anything unmanageable_- -determined he was alive, and for the moment, partly functional. Was he in danger? _Not imminent._ No Necromorphs crashed through the ceiling vent; no needles sank into his eyeball; no insane scientists trying to murder him.

He swung his gaze to his immediate vicinity. Recess lighting glowed dimly the outline of the room, which was small and private, nearly confining from how close the walls were together. For efficiency, cabinets had been inset into the walls. A stool was at his bedside. Though muted, the noise of voices, movement, machinery, and the constant, encouraging hum of a ship in motion reminded him of where he was.

_Sweet Retribution_- -the battlecruiser home to the Clarke Faction, Samson, and an entire crew that grieved over the loss of family on the Aegis VII colony, and aboard the _Ishimura _and the _O'Bannon._ The Clarke Faction, who, for all intents and purposes, was anti-Unitology enough to go seeking out pockets of that religion and annihilate the believers. Danger presented itself in many forms, and Isaac worried the Clarke Faction was another form of it.

He was in a bed in the middle of the tiny room, and the covers had been pulled up to his chin. His body at first refused to move, but when he forced his hand up, muscles aching and sore, he saw several IV tubes snaking from his forearm. The bruising had healed, somewhat, so instead of the blackish purple, there was a red-yellow-brownish mural under the skin. He was in the Medical Deck, then. The last thing he remembered was Ellie and…and that was as far in his thoughts as he wanted to go. The idea he'd had, the realization before the darkness, was too enormous to think of all at once. He must edge around the magnitude and come at it a bit at a time. If he could.

As he struggled to sit up, the door slid open, the light behind the figure bright enough to blind Isaac into flinching away. Then the door closed automatically, and to his immense surprise, the austere Cpt. Samson stepped to his side.

"I don't think you should be sitting up," she said to him. A command or a suggestion? He didn't know. She pressed a hand on his shoulder; a gesture that Isaac would've expected from Ellie, not a cool woman like the captain. He allowed her to push him flat into the bed. "Am I disturbing you?"

"No." He gazed at her in mild curiosity as she perched on the stool. "You have good timing. I woke a couple minutes ago." And he already wished he'd brushed his teeth and had a shave before she'd come in.

She nodded. Then she smoothed out the fabric of her trousers with her hand. "You've been unconscious for a while. Dr. Greggs said you'd suffered from exhaustion and needed some rest."

He studied her, unsure of her sudden decency. In her face he saw a classical beauty, and though some lines creased around her eyes and mouth, she retained an element of youth with full lips and dark lashes that Isaac could pick out even in the dim of the room. She had a lovely shape, too, a compact frame with long legs and ample swelling at her breast and hips. Isaac did not know what to do when heat bubbled in his gut, so he glanced to the foot of the bed and reminded himself that she might try to manipulate him. That quelled the rising heat.

Finally, Isaac said, "Is everything all right?"

"Mr. Clarke," she replied, straightening, "I've come to ask you one question. What are your intentions toward my father?"

A moment stretched out between them as Isaac worked out his disbelief. "_My _intentions? What are you talking about?"

"My mother died when I was twelve because of Unitology, and it killed a part of him." The ice-cold glare was back in place. Distrust and dislike had returned. "He never got over her death. Uncle Matty…Cpt. Mathias…supported us through the hardship and became a fixture in our lives. Uncle Matty's death did something to my father…made him less understanding, less complacent. He fixated on spreading the truth about Unitology and the Markers." She spread her fingers out in a moment of contemplation. "You know, he thinks of you as a holy warrior against the Markers, or some sort of…key to destroying Unitology. I wanted to warn you that I _won't have _you using him to support a vendetta war against some stupid religion."

"Trust me when I say I've had enough of Unitologists and their ilk," Isaac said, wondering if this whole scenario was becoming an argument. "I'm more concerned that one of your Clarke Faction people is plotting to hand me over to EarthGov for a fat paycheck."

"If that's the case then they're not really Clarke Faction, but spies for EarthGov. We'd know if something like that was happening aboard," she told him. "And it won't concern you for very long. As soon as Dr. Greggs gives the go-ahead on your health, I'm supplying you with a private vessel and sending you on your merry way."

Honestly, he wasn't surprised she wanted him gone. _He'd _want himself gone in her position, as he posed a huge threat to the population on the ship if EarthGov decided to mount an attack. "Understood."

She opened her mouth and sucked in air. Then she comprehended what he said- -looked like she didn't believe he'd agree with her. An arrogant part liked derailing her. "You're…okay with me throwing you overboard the _Retribution_?"

Isaac sighed. "Look. I don't want any more trouble. I'm tired, beat-up, and destitute. Whatever your father wants me for, I'm unable to do. It's probably better that I leave before your people get any bright ideas about what's in my head."

"You're being frighteningly rational about this."

Isaac gave a half-hearted smile. "Yeah, well, I've spent a lot of time around insanity."

She laughed- -a chopped noise that was more a cough than a real laugh and leaned forward on the stool to lay her hand on top his. He didn't expect a heated jolt up his arm from their connection. "Isaac," she whispered, "I am sorry about all your hardship. Truly, I am."

"Thank you, but none of it was your fault." Her concern warmed him, and maybe, she wasn't as hostile as he'd first assumed. "If it's not too much trouble…will you…smooth things over with Ellie when the time comes?" he asked her. That Ellie would remain aboard had been implied through their conversation. "She won't understand."

"I'll try my best. She's a good girl. Loyal, brave, stubborn. I like her, and we could use her skills," Cpt. Samson answered. "I'll let you get your rest." She removed her hand from his after a gentle pat, and before she exited, she hesitated to look at him over her shoulder, her RIG washing her face in blue glow. "By the way, Mr. Clarke, if my father should try to convince you to stay, what will you say?"

Isaac deadpanned his response. "Sorry, Samson, but I'm getting the hell away from humanity."

"You are a quick learner," the captain told him, with a wry smile. "I'll link up with you when everything's prepared."

He watched her leave as the door separated and then closed when she'd stepped through. She had an appealing derriere. Too bad. Isaac shrugged further into the bed and threaded his fingers together on his chest. If he was leaving _Sweet Retribution_, he needed some semblance of a plan.

First order of business- -where to go? His family had been small; he'd lost closeness with Octavia, his mother, after Unitology sucked her into its church, when she'd taken money from his college fund to oil her promotion to a "vested" rank. She'd disappeared entirely from his life the day after he'd graduated from college, and he hadn't heard from her since except for letters that were cluttered with references to Altman and the Markers and that were nonsensical in nature. He'd never really known his father, who'd left Octavia when Isaac was very young, and Isaac always felt that if Poul Clarke had stuck around, maybe his mother wouldn't have been at Isaac's throat constantly to get him to become Unitologist. The fights (wars, actually) had began a long time ago, pinpointed almost to the day when Isaac turned thirteen and defied being 'baptized' as a Unitologist.

He stopped short the train of thought. It wasn't helping his current situation. His first sub-priority was to avoid capture from EarthGov, so he couldn't remain for long on any station or as a worker for the government- -and the CEC for that matter. He had to assume that the Unitologist network was expansive, so not only did he have to avoid EarthGov and CEC people, but Unitologists as well. That was about seventy-five percent of the damn human population across the Sol. Again, there wasn't anywhere he could run that he'd be left alone.

But perhaps he was thinking of this wrong. Everything he'd suggested to himself was legal. He was a criminal now- -or at least, painted as one- -so why not _be _a criminal. Blackmarket-type dealings would give him a place to hide and a job. Most blackmarket operations ran from ships, based on every news story he'd heard about raids and such; so he'd be off the radar and moving around, which would help him be untraceable. Surely someone, somewhere, needed an on-the-run engineer's services.

The door opened again. "Isaac!" Ellie rushed the two and a half steps to his bedside and grabbed his hand with hers. "You're awake!"

"Yeah," he said. A smile of real joy crept over his face at Ellie's happiness. He noticed her unobstructed eye. "Hey, you're not a pirate anymore."

Her eye-patch was off, and in the low light of the room, she looked as she'd been before Stross had speared her eye with the screwdriver. She sat on the stool Delilah had occupied, but scooted closer to him. Her hand ducked around to put her palm on his and twine their fingers together.

"Even though Greggs said you weren't critical, I was so afraid you were," she said. When she rested her soft cheek on their hands, heat shockpointed inside him- -leftover attraction from Cpt. Samson and from the fact, Isaac reasoned, that the last time he'd been with a woman was over three fucking years ago. "Did you rest well?"

"I'm great." A lie. The huge ball of attraction for Ellie, expanding in his gut, was going to kill him. "When Greggs comes in, I'm hoping to convince him to release me. You're a sight for sore eyes." That was the truth. Her hair was loose, dark and unkempt locks framing her face, and she'd changed into a clean trousers and a shirt paired with a short, zipped jacket. She looked young and full of life, and the age in Isaac wanted to sip from her cup. "Speaking of, how's the new eye?"

"It's fine! I've got full vision in it. The color of it is a bit off-putting. You know, it's so funny," she said, the laugh in her throat stoked Isaac's smoldering coals, "because I _know_ I've got a new one, but each time I look in the mirror, I surprise myself! It's hard to get used to."

"You don't seem as reserved as I thought you'd be," he said. Goddamn, she must've put on perfume. It permeated the air with a sexy lavender-vanilla. He swallowed hard. "No one's messed with you?"

"Isaac, I didn't think I could like any of these people, but they're all so normal," she answered. "They know what it is to be lied to and stolen from. The thing is, I like everyone and they seem trustworthy, but there's this feeling that…I don't know, _simmers_ under the surface. Like, they're waiting for something."

"An excuse, you mean."

She tilted her head in thought. "Yes. Maybe. I'm not sure. I haven't explained it to anyone else except for you. I didn't want to catch anyone's notice."

"I see. You still want to leave?"

"Yes and no. I get that this is probably the safest place for us, but so much can go on behind our backs, so much we can't control," she answered. "There isn't a right or wrong choice here. More of a…lesser evil, I guess."

Isaac nodded. Their conversation fell away as they contemplated their fates in silence. He had no concrete answers. Everything he came up with was based on what-ifs and luck, and more importantly, his thinking was different from hers in a significant way: Ellie planned for _them_; he planned for _himself._ She'd been correct about him- -he _was_ a selfish bastard. Their silence would've continued had the door not opened a third time.

"He lives!" With Greggs' arrival, the lights flickered on, stark bright, and Isaac's first reaction was to shade his eyes. "Welcome back to _Sweet Retribution_, Mr. Clarke. Well, this is a familiar sight." Ellie vacated the stool so Greggs could come to the bedside. "Ellie hardly left your side since you've been here."

Isaac shot a gaze at Ellie; she shyly looked askance. In the minutes that followed, Greggs poked and prodded and scanned with sensors as doctors are wont to do, and declared Isaac a clean bill of health as he removed the IV needles. "You're free to go, Mr. Clarke. There're clean clothes here," he reached up and patted a metal drawer, "and Ellie can show you around, if you're up for it."

"Sounds good. But Greggs," Isaac said as the doctor stood, "where's my sec-suit?"

He shrugged. "I don't have a clue. It was whisked off by Boss-man as soon as he heard you were here. I'll be notifying him that you're discharged, so I'm sure he'll link with you soon enough."

"Thanks, Doc," Isaac said. "You've been a big help."

Greggs laughed, embarrassed. "Hey, you're the one who's saved humanity twice."

When Greggs stepped around to leave, he bumped into Ellie. It was then Isaac noticed a meaningful look pass between them when Greggs nervously apologized and touched Ellie's hip. Interesting. Had Ellie formed a clandestine relationship with the good doctor? Or was this flirting and nothing more? Whatever it was, Isaac didn't need to know. Ellie was her own woman, her own sweet, beautiful, _strong _woman, and he had to respect her choices and especially _not _get jealous and possessive. He didn't have the energy, brain capacity, or heart for it, anyway. And besides, he thought in resignation, she's half my age.

"I'll let you get dressed," Ellie said when Greggs left. "Meet me outside in the waiting room."

"Sure," he told her.

He stirred from the comfort of bed when she exited and stood, body resisting him with each miniscule movement, and he hissed when the floor was cold as shit under his feet. Joints cracked as he stretched up, grazing his knuckles along the metal walls, and twisted his shoulders and arms. God, he felt his age, and he scratched his face where stiff whiskers grew rampant. How annoying. His clothes were plain but smelt clean, his shoes were the right size, and he'd been given a grey jacket to guard against the chill inherent in a spaceship. When he shrugged into the jacket, his RIG synchronized with a beep. Then as prepared as he could be, he left.

Going from his cloistered room into the wider corridor that branched throughout the Medical Deck was like going from a cave into daylight. And like some cro-magnon man, he lurched along, rounding the corners where signs indicated he should to end up in the waiting room. Ellie stood with her arms crossed, apparently engrossed in a news story on a vidscreen. The picture flashed to the Sprawl, and Isaac at once understood her interest.

A woman newscaster spoke over the clip. "…rist attack. EarthGov officials have set up a survivor's center on Rhea Station, which Director Millicent Daniels says will host the survivors until arrangements can be made for them."

Millicent's white hair- -in a professional, sleek bun- -and elderly countenance came alive in a filmed clip. Gold-drop earrings swung from her lobes as she spoke directly to the camera. "Know that we're receiving survivors from Titan Station with compassion and open arms and that we're searching extensively for Isaac Clarke, the perpetrator of the unsurpassed destruction to the Sprawl. We are asking that _anyone_ with knowledge on the whereabouts or suspected activities of Isaac Clarke step forward with their information, so that justice can be administered swiftly and without fault."

It looked like her little spiel continued, but the news plastered Isaac's face across the screen. The newscaster continued speaking. "Isaac Clarke had been a CEC Engineer for twenty years before a mission to the USG _Ishimura _brought him into contact with Dr. Isabel Cho, who was responsible for the massacres on Aegis VII, the _Ishimura,_ and the USG _O'Bannon._ Officials believe that Cho and Clarke joined forces, and both were arrested as conspirators against EarthGov and for targeting Unitologists. The events on Titan Station were a rouse by the Clarke Faction, supporters of Clarke's terrorist acts, to free Clarke from EarthGov's custody. Clarke is at large, and EarthGov is calling on citizens to contact them with relevant information regarding his whereabouts." The screen flashed the EarthGov emblem paired with a transmission code and the newscaster continued on.

Ellie snorted beside him. "I can't watch this filth any longer. Makes me sick."

"It's convenient we're on the Medical Deck, then," Isaac said, but his joke fell flat when Ellie spared him a grumpy look. In the abundant light, the colors of her eyes were apparent. They startled him- -her natural greenish-brown, paired with a turquoise-blue. "Damn, Ellie, you were right. The eye-color thing takes some getting used to."

"Be honest, is it freaky? I can't get a straight answer out of Greggs."

Greggs, again. An image of the two of them side-by-side queued up in his mind. How did he feel about that? He determined that he felt nothing one way or the other. Good. Feelings geared to neutral were appropriate. So he studied her a moment, trying to judge if her stare made him uncomfortable or distressed. He supposed the blue reminded him of Nicole, but Nicole's blue was bluer, darker, than Ellie's eye. "No. I'm used to eyes being the same color, but I'm not disturbed by it."

"Thanks." She smiled pure gorgeousness. "I can always rely on you to be sincere about things."

Okay, _now _neutrality swung to confusion. Her overall presence had warmed, became womanly, fucking _sensual _towards him, and he was suddenly aware of the closeness of their faces. He'd leaned as he'd analyzed her eyes, and unbidden, his gaze dropped to her pink lips. Idly, his mind wondered if kissing her would be soft like it'd been with Nicole, or something different, more exotic. He knew on a distant level that instigating a relationship with Ellie would be wrong, but at the moment, as it extended out, he couldn't quite remember _why _it would be wrong.

His RIGlink saved him from stupidity. "Mr. Clarke!" Samson's voice preceded his visage over the holovid. All Isaac could see of the man was a grand smile set under the glasses. "I've been told you're released from observation. How are you feeling?"

He shuffled back from Ellie to safety. "I'm fine. Ellie's here with me."

"Hello, Miss Langford! How are you?"

Ellie stood next to Isaac so Samson could see her. "Hi, Samson. I'm good. You?"

"Good, good." He bobbed his bald head. "There's something I want both of you to see. Here're the coordinates." Isaac's and Ellie's RIGs ticked in tandem with acceptance of the coordinates. "Meet me at your earliest convenience. Oh! And I'll buy lunch!"

The holovid closed, leaving Ellie and Isaac standing next to each other in the waiting room of the Medical Deck. Ellie sighed. "That man. What's he got up his sleeve?"

"It's okay. I'll play along with him, see what he wants. Maybe we can get our questions about the Clarke Faction answered," he replied. "You can go ahead. I need a shower and a shave before I meet anyone for anything."

"Aw, really?" Nothing could've prevented the explosion of arousal when she playfully rubbed her hand on his jaw. "I like the unshaven look on you. Gives a sort of rugged, man's man impression."

The circuits in his brain malfunctioned from her touch. "I've destroyed two Markers," he heard himself say, "I think I don't need to be any more manly."

She laughed and nodded, thankfully putting her hand down by her side. "All right. I'll meet up with Samson. Don't take forever." And he caught the sly look that crossed her face, but before he could compute, she sprang up on her toes and kissed the corner of his mouth. Her lips brushed his when she whispered, "I hate waiting."

Then she ducked around him and exited the Medical Deck. Isaac stalled for a few minutes, attempting to restart his brain molecules. Did Ellie have a thing for him? A crush? If she did, it was _not _something he needed. And, he supposed as he used the waypoint on his RIG, she had no idea that he was broken in a million pieces from Nicole's death. He followed the waypoint out of the Medical Deck to a tram station, which was deserted. There was also the fact that Isaac planned on leaving her, again, when the opportunity presented itself. She would be hurt more if he indulged in a relationship with her. A thudding pain erupted behind his right eye.

"Isaac."

Nicole's voice spun him around. No one had been on the tram when he'd gotten aboard, but here she was, sitting on a bench with her legs crossed at the knee. She wore her white medical uniform with the black gloves. The sight of her tripped his heart.

"What do you want?" He adjusted his weight to take flight.

Nicole blinked, ponderous. Her presence was so real; the color of her hair and skin, the curves and lines and details of her body. If he touched her, would he feel her skin? He didn't think so, but he wanted, _craved,_ to find out.

"You didn't run like Stross did. You accepted your guilt for my death and overcame the pain it wrought on you. You were strong enough to finish off two Markers." She stood to approach him, her feet soundless on the floor. "Why do you continue to deny your atonement? Your retribution for what they did to me?"

"I'm finished with it," he told her. "I can't do what you're asking. I won't choose to face another Marker, even for you."

"If not for me then for Ellie. What would you do to keep her safe? To protect her?"

He gasped and went cold at her implication. "Do you think I don't know that? I'm leaving her here. _I'm _the danger to her, and if I'm not around, she's safe."

Nicole clucked at him. "That's what you want to believe, but the truth is much, much harder. They won't stop unless you stop them. Maybe next time, and there _will _be a next time, she won't survive." Her face hardened, became determined. "Don't be afraid of your duty. You've been chosen, Isaac, chosen by the dead as their instrument for justice. Let them speak through you."

The tram screeched to a stop, and consequently startled Isaac awake from his hallucination. He had one word to say about it.

"Fuck."

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**A/N:** I think what I love best about Dead Space is the capacity it has for combining the supernatural with science-fiction. Expect a lot of that in the future. As always, let me know what you think. Next chapter will be posted Sept. 8th. See you then.


	6. Forward Motion

**A/N: **Welcome back, dear readers, to another chapter of "Reconciliation". I'm so thrilled you've all been enjoying the story so far.

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**Chapter Six: Forward Motion**

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As Isaac showered the hospital staleness, sweat, and grime off his skin and hair, he supposed that if Nicole's ghost (or hallucination) had to fixate on something, it was Marker-killing and not anything to do with Ellie. Being haunted by a former girlfriend was exhausting enough, but if Nicole had taken a disliking to Ellie, he'd hole up under a rock and never come out.

The more important issue was what Isaac would do if Ellie had gotten it in her head to start an affair or a fling with him. Nicole had been adamant that his work was not finished- -he didn't let himself go into detail about that as it continued to be too humongous of a concept- -but Cpt. Samson wanted him off and he'd agreed. Ellie should stay on _Sweet Retribution_ whatever the case was, which made him think that starting something with her would be wrong because he'd be leaving her. Furthermore, Ellie, on principle, was taboo because she could be his daughter's age and if he wasn't feeling old already, _that _did it.

For the sake of everyone involved (and Isaac's sanity, if he had any left), he would consider Ellie off-limits. Easier said than done, particularly when he knew he'd be avoiding contact and flirtatiousness with her. He could put distance between them a bit at a time, and maybe, with there being a younger, sprier selection of men on the ship, she'd find attraction elsewhere. Again, easier said.

When he gazed at his reflection in the mirror, a man with haggard lines and sunken cheeks gazed back, a man who was unreadable and dangerous, bruised and hardened from diehard survival. His green-blue eyes were wiser, quieter, _steadier_, than he'd ever seen them. Did Ellie see what he saw? The coldness? The…unknown and lethality?

Or did she see something different inside him?

Isaac sighed, opened-closed his healing hand a few times to loosen the muscles, and rubbed his shoulder, which did not aggravate him with aching or pain. At least he was on the mend. He dressed then used his waypoint to travel to where Ellie and Samson were on the Engineering Deck. To his delight, he'd been given a high clearance code, and he passed through several areas where he'd normally expect to be delayed. Everyone must've been on lunch; not much personnel clotted the halls, and Isaac was left alone.

He came to another door set back and away from main Engineering, labeled 'Modification Workshop'. It opened to Ellie and Samson hunched over a well-lighted table in the center of the cramped room. Various tools and mechanisms bordered the shelves and hung from a track from the ceiling. Closed up along an open wall was a bench, with what looked like a dispenser for power nodes affixed to the backsplash just over the bench. Upon closer inspection, he saw his sec-suit lain out on the table, with its bits and pieces detached and set to the side.

"What is this?" he asked as he came to stand at an unoccupied side of the table. "My suit!"

Samson paused from fiddling with the stasis module. "Yes, Mr. Clarke! You are wonderfully adaptable! This suit is…is…brilliant!"

Ellie smiled. "I didn't know you could do this to a security suit!"

"Any suit," Isaac corrected. "The modifications were important to have given the circumstances. Samson…are you familiar with…?"

"Yes, indeed." Samson set down the stasis module. "Like you, I studied mechanical and electrical engineering. But this is…you've increased the charge speed, duration, and usages of this module, and incorporated both stasis and kinesis in your repertoire of skills. The suit has been improved, not to mention whatever you did to your tools at the time. Fantastic. Just…fantastic."

As Isaac gazed at the suit parts scattered around, pried apart, obviously examined for design, a premonition crawled into his gut. "Samson…you're not thinking of…replicating these changes on other suits, are you?"

Ellie shot him a fearful look. "Isaac…why would you say that? What need would there be for something like this?" She gestured to the cluttered table.

Samson carefully set aside the stasis module and spread his hands on the tabletop. His actions were a stalling device. Isaac could tell Samson had not wanted to get into any details, but his hand had been forced early with Isaac's question. The quiet must've unnerved Ellie.

"Samson"- -anxiousness underscored her words- -"what is Isaac doing here _really_?"

Samson nodded. "I'll tell you, but not here. No, not here. Please, come with me." He shuffled to the door.

Ellie pinned Isaac with a penetrating glare, halting him before he could follow Samson. She said, fiercely, "You know something you're not telling."

He didn't know if he should confirm or deny it, but his silence told her more than any of his words could.

The moment continued to prolong as the atmosphere pricked along Isaac's spine. No one moved from where he or she stood. Ellie had Isaac locked into a stare, her mismatched eyes unblinking; Samson looked on, but Isaac couldn't judge his expression. Ellie swallowed hard, her throat contracting with a _click._ A tear ran over her fine cheekbone, an occurrence that took Isaac by surprise when his heart rolled in his chest. She'd cried when he'd sent her away; the _only _time he'd seen her cry during the Sprawl nightmare.

"There're more Markers, aren't there," she stated, licking her lips. Her choked whisper carried to him her fear. "That's what this is about. The Clarke Faction. The sec-suit. Why _you're _so important to this ship. This about destroying the other Markers."

Shit. He crashed headlong, a bones-crunching impact, into the very idea he'd been skirting around, poking at, and his knees went weak enough that he had to plant his hands on the tabletop. "Ellie-"

She cut him off, rounding on Samson, her fury ignited. "_You!_ _You _want Isaac to go Marker-hunting for you! How could you ask that of him? How could you, when you _know _exactly what he's been through! The love of his life died in that horror and _you want him to do it again?_" She swung around the corners of the table and backed Samson up to the wall. Her accent was much more pronounced. "He's not some commando from the Resource Wars! He's a goddamn engineer. An _engineer, _Samson! Hasn't he been through enough because of those godforsaken Markers?"

Isaac reached out to pull her from Samson, fearful she'd smack him one, but Samson waved him off then adjusted his glasses and slouched. "Dear girl, you're right. Of course you are. But facts are facts. EarthGov and Unitology have built more Markers, Markers that will cause the same death and destruction you faced on the Sprawl. No one's stopping them, Miss Langford."

_They won't stop unless you stop them,_ Nicole reiterated to Isaac inside his mind, as Samson continued speaking. "You experienced the evacuation on the Sprawl…how very few survived it, how quickly the outbreak took over." In a fatherly gesture, Samson cradled Ellie's head with his knobby hands. Isaac expected Ellie to jerk her head away, but she didn't. "Isaac Clarke knows how to kill those Markers. He's the _only one _who has gone in and come out alive…_twice._ But if you're willing, he won't have to go it alone the next time."

Isaac understood. "You're sending a _team_ to destroy Markers. That's why you have my suit here. You need my help designing more. And weapons."

"That's just…that's…that's unbelievable!" Ellie murmured. She tugged out of Samson's caress and wiped her tears with the heel of her hand, turning to Isaac. "Isaac…please tell me you're not considering this. You'll die if you go. You'll _die._"

"I don't think the Markers are capable of killing him," Samson said to her, "or he'd be dead and gone already."

Ellie huffed. "Oh, whatever! Based on what proof? And Isaac's not considering it, anyway. Isn't that right?"

Her look told him to agree with her or else. He couldn't possibly at this point, so he put his hands to her shoulders. "Ellie. Nothing has been decided. I understand what Samson and the Clarke Faction are doing, and I want to help them as best as I can because I agree that more Markers are a very bad thing."

"Isaac, please," she touched the side of his face, a feathery brush, "please, let's get out of here. I don't care where, but I don't want to stay anymore."

"I can't yet." He didn't apologize because he didn't feel sorry, but he did regret his unapologetic feelings.

Almost physically, he felt her emotions wince. She shoved him from her, out of his reach. "You selfish bastard," she spat. Then she rushed out of the workshop and clomped down the hall. He listened until he could no longer hear her running footsteps.

Isaac made no move to go after her. She'd retreat if he'd tried getting near, so waiting for her to cool and approach him on her own terms was probably best. Well, old man, he thought, you've put that distance between you and her. Good job. If she held on to her anger and hurt, he'd be free to leave _Retribution_ without guilt.

"That could've gone better," Samson commented quietly from the side. "Mr. Clarke, I'm sorry. I didn't want it to turn out like this. I can see how important she is to you."

"The Sprawl happened a few days ago. Everything's so fresh in her mind that it's impossible for her to even conceive of a scenario like she's been through happening again," Isaac replied. He rubbed his eyes and felt the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders. "I'll help you with modifying the suits and equipment, but I can't promise you I'll go on your mission."

"Mr. Clarke," Samson's tone was grave, "all I ask is that you do what you can to save lives."

"Have you started reproducing the modifications already, then?" Isaac asked, more to deflect the tense mood than because he was curious. "I assume you have suits prepared."

"We do. Of course, we obtained them by illegal means," replied Samson, "but I'm sure that's of no consequence to you. The mods haven't been started," he continued as he crossed the floor to a side panel and palmed it to open a closet-area that housed sec-suits on a set of mannequins. There were five. "We wanted to wait until you were available to oversee the process. We were fortunate enough to requisition a series of top of the line sec-suits with a tougher, more durable mesh coating, but with a higher retention of flexibility. There are more in storage."

The suits were not the grey and navy and teal that Isaac was used to; instead, the color was black with a deep red inlay. His breath shortened when he thought of blood-red symbols carved on stone as though carved in living flesh. The colors reminded him of the Red Marker. "They look…intimidating." _Gruesome._ "What about the weapons?"

Samson closed up the closet. "That is a different matter. We raided an EarthGov weapons cache and discovered some new prototypes of weaponry. EarthGov loved that we'd taken them…bad press, you see…but couldn't relocate them. Eventually, they gave up searching for the weapons."

"Was it because they realized _Sweet Retribution _was a battlecruiser?"

A dry chuckle from Samson. "EarthGov has no inkling of _Retribution._ We have an amazing staff of computer geniuses and technicians and whizzes that monitor EarthGov's movements and transmissions. Even the most classified of files are prone to weakness. That was how we were able to discover the research and whereabouts of the other Marker labs."

Isaac frowned. "Makes me shudder to think of more Markers." And raised astringent bile in his throat.

"Yes, truly a horrifying idea in itself, worse to know it's true." Samson's RIGlink flicked a holovid open, interrupting them.

A fresh-faced young fellow grinned under a mess of shortish black hair. "Gramps! You coming for lunch, or what? I've been waiting forever."

"Yes, we're on our way, No-no." Samson chuckled, eyes lost in happy crinkles. "I've got someone you'll want to meet coming with me."

No-no's face went slack. "Nuh-uh! Not…?"

"Shush…you'll find out when we get there." Like Samson had done with Isaac and Ellie, he flicked off the link before further conversation could continue. "My grandson, Noah. He's Delilah's son."

"Delilah?"

Samson had himself another round of laughter. "I forget about the formality she has with her crew. The captain. Captain Samson."

Isaac nearly said 'You're shitting me,' but his filter caught the words in the nick of time. "Ah. A family affair." The captain did not seem the kind of woman to be motherly. He couldn't imagine her wiping a baby's ass or cooing a fussy one to sleep, but her motherhood made sense given her bedside demeanor towards him earlier.

"You could call it that." Samson gestured to the exit. "We should go. Noah will not be patient long, and he'll be liable to come looking for us. He is so thrilled that you're aboard," Samson continued as they walked through the corridors of Engineering to the tram that would take them to the galley. "Don't be taken aback if he pries into your personal life. He'll ask a million questions and not find satisfaction."

"I've been interrogated before," Isaac replied. They'd come to the station and stood waiting for the tram. "How old is he?"

"Fourteen and immortal," Samson said. He sighed forlornly. "Youth is wasted on the young."

Isaac agreed with the maxim as they waited in silence. If he could have the choice, he'd rewind twenty years of his own life, so he wouldn't over-think a fling with Ellie and go through with it without any qualms. Hell, if he could rewind twenty years of life, he'd be blissfully unaware of Marker technology, and have Nicole to look forward to. As though the thought summoned Ellie, she opened a holovid on his RIG. Her eyes were glassy, and she was flush, ruddy.

"Isaac! Is Samson with you?"

Isaac didn't feel any angry backlash from her through the holovid, yet he proceeded with extreme caution. "Yes, he's here. What is it?"

"Where are you?"

"We're on the tram, heading to the galley."

"I'll meet you there."

Then she signed off. Puzzled, Isaac glanced across at Samson, who shrugged. He said, "Who can tell what's on a woman's mind."

"I want to know if I should be expecting a punch to the face," Isaac said. Ellie had reason to be violent towards him. He couldn't blame her for feeling how she felt…upset, scared, helpless. "She's too hot-tempered."

"It's a good thing she vents her anger," Samson said. "She puts her heart right out on her sleeve for you to see."

Isaac wondered if Samson was waxing philosophical or if he was sharing with Isaac a clue to her true feelings. After a few more short minutes, the tram came to a stop at the station that led to the galley and a few other less important decks in the _Retribution._ Wherever there weren't people, Isaac discovered this was where they'd come. A steady stream of individuals wearing the usual workclothes, talking animatedly, and departing from the galley streamed in to and out of the main doors. Like a stone thrown into a quiet pool, Isaac's presence sent ripples through the crowd. The echoing murmurs quieted from where Isaac stood, as eyes and faces pinpointed him. After silence had descended, there came a heavenly sigh, escaping the onlookers' mouths.

"It's Isaac Clarke," some anonymous person said.

Hairs stood on end when individuals repeated his name until 'Isaac Clarke' vibrated the air- - many lips speaking a broken hymnal or prayer in a vaulted cathedral. Intensity ratcheted up a notch when someone had the bright idea to stomp on the metal floor. His name became a cheer; people clapped, stomped, whistled. Everyone joined in, and Isaac, uncomfortable with the heightened attention, stomach in knots, wanted to escape as the noise became raucous to the point of painful. Uncertain with the sheer amount of people, he glanced for help to Samson, who sported an amused smile.

Samson closed his hand around Isaac's wrist and raised his arm over their hands. Here he is! A thunderous applause and cheer rolled a huge thunderclap over Isaac. His ears rang. Samson lowered their arms, and, keeping a guiding hand on Isaac's shoulder, nudged him forward into the human sea. Beautiful, living grins greeted him, hands patted him amiably on the shoulders, and the same 'Is it really Isaac Clarke?' touching proceeded as he swam through the crowd.

"Gramps! Mr. Clarke!" Noah Samson waved over heads and shoulders. The kid wore a neat black jacket with an off-set silver zipper, zipper pockets, and plain matching pants. Not faded, Isaac noted. "Over here!"

With his eye on a fixed point, Isaac began walking forward to Samson's grandson. People stepped aside, but even then, if it hadn't been for Samson's hand, Isaac was sure he'd be overwhelmed. The amount of people he brushed past seemed infinite, but at long last, he broke through the crowd line into the galley, which seemed to have vacated due to his arrival. The galley was set up so that there were different food lines around a central dining area and numbered vid-screens flashed with advertisements, news, and sitcoms that people could link audio to and watch while eating.

"Are you ready, Mr. Clarke?" asked Samson in Isaac's ear. He barely had time to register the question before he was caught in a verbal onslaught.

"Wow, Isaac Clarke," Noah said. His color was high as he offered his hand to Isaac, who shook it. "It's an honor! I'm Noah. Noah Samson. My mom's the captain."

"It's good to meet you," replied Isaac and wanting room from the crowd, said, "Should we eat?"

Noah's grin looked ready to crack open his face. "Sounds great! You sure generated a gathering, Mr. Clarke. I don't think I've seen these people so happy in a long time. When did you arrive? I'd heard rumors that it'd been a few days ago, but Mom said to mind our manners and give you your privacy, else I would've totally come and met you then." They'd come up to the order window. "How long have you been in mechanical engineering? Did you always work for the CEC? What outfit did you work for?"

And so on. Noah, exuberant, asked questions and continued on a stream of verbalized consciousness that rarely paused long enough for Isaac to answer the questions posed in a logical order. When Isaac glanced over at Samson, the older man's shoulders shook with suppressed merriment. They'd gotten their lunch- -a saucy, noodled mess, bread, peas, what looked like a brownie, and a beverage- -and were sitting, when Noah's conversational train abruptly came to an end.

"Whoa," he said, his eyes on the galley's entrance, and if ever there was a moment of love at first sight, Isaac witnessed it at that moment, "I haven't seen _her_before."

A fresh crowd had entered, and among the group of people at the entrance, Isaac saw Ellie standing on her toes glancing about. Isaac set his tray on the table and began crossing the floor to her position, was halfway there before Ellie spotted him. She released a generous smile as she rushed over to him, and when he expected her to stop her forward motion, she didn't, and ducked behind his guard to wrap her arms around his waist, clutching him into her soft curves. Not good. Arousal was quick to kick him in the gut.

Her face turned into his neck; sensitive skin attuned to her warm breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being angry and for causing a ruckus, and I want you to know that whatever decision you make, I'll support you a hundred percent."

"Okay, Ellie. It's okay." His arms kept her wonderfully close. Her presence was so necessary. "You don't have to apologize."

"But I needed to. I…I got to thinking that if I continued to be angry and ill-tempered, that you'd decide to go through with some bad idea and I wouldn't be around to save your ass." She drew away to gaze up at him in seriousness, her lovely lips and smooth skin so near. "Your ass needs saving, Isaac."

He laughed. "You're right. It does. _Constantly_."

"Do you forgive me? And promise to tell me what's going on in your secret meetings?"

"I forgive you, and yes, I promise," he told her. He peeled out of her embrace to cool his jets and to hopefully avoid a kiss, if she felt inclined to share one with him. "We've got our lunches. Have you eaten? You want to join us?"

"Thank you! I haven't eaten yet. Oh, I see Samson over there." Ellie waved back at Samson. "Who's the kid?"

"That's Noah Samson, Cpt. Samson's son."

Her eyes widened. "You're shitting me. I can't imagine anyone calling that hardass woman Mum."

"You're in for a treat," Isaac said. "Grab some grub and meet us over there."

They separated and Isaac went back to the table where Noah and Samson were sitting. He took a seat, the corners of his mouth twitching, and waited for Noah to act on his teenage love. When Issac passed along a knowing and amused look to Samson, Samson had similar twitching mouth-corners. Noah didn't disappoint.

"Mr. Clarke, I mean, Isaac," Noah whispered. "Do you know her?"

Isaac barely contained his smirk. There should be a law against finding enjoyment out of a teenager's crush on an older woman. He twirled some noodles on his fork as a distraction. "Hm-hm. I'll introduce her when she gets over here."

"Is she eating with us?"

"She is."

"Oh, my God."

Noah said it quietly, to himself enough that Isaac was sure Noah hadn't meant for him and Samson to hear it. Quiet eating ensued. The conversation had lulled, mainly because Noah concentrated hard on Ellie as she strolled over with her tray and sat across from Noah beside Isaac. Hey, kid, take a picture…it'll last longer, Isaac thought.

"Ellie, this Noah. Noah, Ellie. She came in with me from the Sprawl," Isaac said, and enjoyed the hearts that exuded from Noah's eyes as Ellie smiled. "She's a Class 4 heavy equipment pilot."

"Hello, there," she said. "Nice to meet you."

Noah flushed from his collar up to his ears. "You, too."

Ellie seemed to have a silencing effect on Noah, who hardly said a word as Ellie carried the conversation between the four of them through lunch; she'd even apologized to Samson, who dismissed her outburst as nothing unusual given her situation. As they cleaned up their table, Noah received a holovid from one of his friends, and as teenagers do, he hurried the clean-up to go meet with the other youth for a Zero-G Basketball tournament.

"Good kid," Ellie said as she, Isaac, and Samson watched him depart through the galley's doors. "Seems nice."

Isaac snorted. "He had a million questions to ask me, but he clammed up around you."

"Such is young love," Samson replied.

A beat of silence. Then Isaac said, "When do you want to start mods on the suits?"

"No time like the present," said Samson. "Ellie, you'll join us?"

Ellie shook her head. "I'd love to, but Greggs called me and wanted to meet me, I think to ask a favor. I'm not sure."

"Whatever it is, good luck with it," Isaac told her. "Samson and I'll be-"

"In the Modification Workshop, I know," she said over him, with a laugh. "And don't worry about dinner. I'll bring something to you in the workshop."

Isaac agreed and Ellie went off to meet up with Greggs. Together he and Samson had exited the galley when Samson's RIGlink accepted a holovid of Cpt. Samson.

"Dad, are you available?" she asked. "And is Mr. Clarke with you?"

Samson kept Isaac back with an out-slung arm. "Delilah," he said, "Isaac and I are going to start modifying the sec-suits. We need to be uninterrupted, please."

"Dad-"

He cut her off. "Uh-uh-uh. You'll get your turn after I've had mine. He'll contact you when the modifications have been completed. Goodbye, dear." Samson thumbed the turn-off button to the RIGlink, and spoke to Isaac as he looked distant. "Mr. Clarke, my daughter doesn't want us to interact. She thinks you'll use me. I think you're the one solution to the Marker problem. Don't let her convince you that you're unnecessary." The old man's hand gripped Isaac's forearm. "You're _very _necessary, do you understand that? You're the key to Unitology's downfall."

Isaac didn't like the idea of being fought over by two influential people. Cpt. Samson wanted him off; her father wanted him to stay. Which was the right choice? With other Markers lurking around- -too near, for his liking- -would there be anywhere he could run to avoid what Nicole said was his duty? The duty of which she spoke seemed to Isaac like teetering over a large, unfathomable void, where he could see utter blackness and no end to falling. He had no safety net and no defense against that void.

He couldn't possibly trudge forward under that yoke of duty Nicole wanted him to bear.

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**A/N:** So much drama. I hope the character interactions aren't throwing any of you off. The Necromorphs will come soon, I promise. Let me know your thoughts and criticisms. Expect another chapter Sept. 15th. Until then!


	7. Screwed Up In Reverse

**A/N: **Readers and lurkers, you are being warned: DEFINITE Isaac/Ellie in this chapter. If you're uncomfortable with sex, I apologize. And sorry for springing it on you. Please, enjoy!

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**Chapter Seven: Screwed Up In Reverse**

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Modifying the suits was a simple affair, mainly because Isaac could take his time with each modification and not rush and risk a mistake under duress. Working on the other side of the table, Samson didn't interrupt his concentration with inane small talk or lecture, and for that, Isaac was grateful. It'd been a long time since he had been able to focus on his trade skills in any kind of peace. He became lost in the work, with attaching and tinkering with the modules, and before he knew it, Ellie came to him bearing dinner.

Their dinner was almost normal- -Ellie ended up getting some take-out containers from the galley. Samson had left a little earlier to eat with his daughter and grandson. Isaac and Ellie sat opposite each other at the mod table, balanced on a couple stools dragged from underneath the tabletop. Over their cardboard boxes of rice, vegetables, and some fried and breaded tofu, they engaged in comfortable conversation.

"So what was it that Greggs wanted you for?"

"Oh, yes!" Ellie set aside her food and ducked her hand into a pocket. "He had some medication he wanted me to make sure you took." He caught the brown paper bag she tossed him, and found two palm-sized pill cases, containing what Isaac guessed to be sedatives and antibiotics. "Told me to keep an eye on you, to make sure you rested, swallowed the medicine, and ate."

Isaac balked. "He could've told _me _what he wanted."

"I think Greggs has pinned you," Ellie said, quietly, as she rooted around in her take-out box with her fork. "You're a very needless person, and that translates into thinking you don't need anything at all."

She didn't meet his eye right away when he stared at her. What did everyone think he needed, then? Certainly not peace and quiet as the entire ship lost its mind whenever he showed up in a public area. Certainly not a safe place to remain for a time being as Cpt. Samson wanted him gone and Samson wanted him to hunt down Markers. And certainly not clarity and a light heart as Ellie wanted…what? His everlasting love and devotion?

He hated to disappoint her, but he could no longer promise either of those precious emotional commodities. His capacity to love and be devoted was wiped clean after Nicole's death. His darling Nicole. He was so sorry about everything that happened to her. And then Ellie's flying accusations at Samson flashed into Isaac's memory, when she referred to the Marker murdering the love of his life. Ellie had spoken as though she knew about Nicole, yet Isaac had never told her that Nicole had been his heart, his life, his everything.

"Ellie, how did you know about Nicole?"

"I…" Her teeth bit her lip. "I watched over you while you were unconscious on the Med Deck. You were…you were dreaming of her. You spoke to me as if I was her. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, but that's not the sort of thing that you can bring up in casual conversation."

"Is this why you're set on staying with me? Do you feel like I have a hole that needs filling?"

Now her eyes locked with his. "There's no need to get angry! This is all…I want you to know you're not by yourself anymore, that you have someone you can rely on to help you and support you, and…and protect you. I'm the one person you have who has lived through the same thing you have, who can understand the sickness and madness that was the Sprawl." She shrugged helplessly. "That's it, I promise."

Isaac considered her a moment. Ellie was truly the one person who comprehended the horrification that was the Marker and the Necromorphs. So few people had given him what he thought he didn't need that he hadn't realized what he _did_ need. Ellie and so far as Isaac knew, Greggs, had his best interests at heart, his health and sanity, and he shouldn't be agitated because they believed he wouldn't accept their help unless they went at him sideways with it. Ellie had waited for his reaction, and when he lowered his gaze to his food, he heard her breathe, relieved.

"Did you make plans for tomorrow?" he asked her. "I can't imagine you having a routine yet, with being out of work."

Ellie swallowed her bite. "Tomorrow's Saturday, so I'm wallowing in bed. I might check out the zero-g basketball court. I haven't played that in years. You coming here for the day?"

"Yeah. I'm probably the most adept at modifying these suits, and the sooner I have them done, the better."

"Isaac…you have time. You don't need to stress yourself to complete the mods."

He shook his head. "I don't believe that there's time. If other Marker sites have been working in conjunction with Titan Station, others may be close to completion. The Marker is sentient form of alien technology," he added, setting aside food he'd lost the taste for, "and will make it easy for the scientists to construct it."

"It _thinks_?" She, too, put down her take-out box. "That's…impossible. Surreal."

"Surreal, but true and not impossible. You saw how Stross was. It sends out these pulses, or…telepathic messages, I guess, that are hallucinations. People succumb or they fight."

Elle gazed at a point over Isaac's shoulder, her finger toying with the Unitology bracelet at her wrist. "Those ghastly symbols everywhere, right?"

"Right. But before that even happens, people start having mental reactions to it." Isaac saw her shoulders shake with a shiver, but didn't change the subject, couldn't now that he was talking about it. "I found audio and text logs on the _Ishimura _that indicated that there were mass suicides and a huge jump in assaults and homicides on Aegis VII the week after the Red Marker had been recovered. They'd had three assaults _total_, since colony-start. Same with the population aboard the _Ishimura._"

"That makes sense. It fucks with people's heads to cause death. Then it's easier for the Necromorphs to take over," she said, almost to herself. In a trance, she picked up a pair of heavy-duty pliers, used to clip the mesh and light-weight metal panels in the sec-suits. She examined the blades as she continued. "And there's a religion that accepts it as a holy damn artifact, accepts the Necromorph outbreak as a journey to heaven or whatever. Sick fucks."

Pain pinched his right eye. He flinched and pressed it with his finger to alleviate the focused pain. Dammit. White light flared in the corner of the workshop, shimmered into a shape and solidified into Nicole. Isaac went cold, ice-cold, when she pointed at Ellie.

"Watch her fingers," she said. "The Marker's eating at her." An instant later, Nicole flashed into nothing.

A warning. The pain diminished. Carefully, so as not to startle Ellie, Isaac stood and stepped around the table. He kept a wary eye on her hands as a chill spread in his nerves. Ellie didn't notice his movement, her attention on the pliers, testing the blade with the edge of her thumb. Blood welled up from a thin, deep line.

Ellie continued, oblivious to him. "The Sprawl was overtaken in a matter of hours, and Unitology views it as a good thing, something _decent_, as we heathens fought to survive and to avoid becoming one of those _monsters_. Why'd they have to butt their heads into my life, hunh? What power is possibly worth the amount of innocent lives lost to obtain it?"

Isaac stopped behind Ellie, watching her carefully, and when she stretched out her index finger to the first knuckle between the blades and tightened her opposite hand on the grips, he snapped his arms over her shoulders and grabbed her wrists. Simultaneously, he slammed the hand that held the cutters into the table and forced away her left hand; the pliers flew from her fingers, clunking on the floor. When Ellie hissed in pain, he let go and backed off.

"OUCH! Isaac! What the hell?" she said, hopping down from the stool. She faced him, her one hand jammed in the crook of her elbow, her brow knitted. "That really hurt!"

"You were going to snip your finger if I hadn't stopped you," he answered. There was no doubt she would've done it. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"What are you talking about? I had my fork in my hand, not a pair of pliers." Reluctantly, she gave her hand over to Isaac, and the heat rumbled around under his stomach unbidden, while he examined her delicate bones. There didn't seem to be any permanent damage to the hand he'd abused. "Why would I cut off my own finger, anyway?"

He pressed his mouth on her knuckles, dropped the hand in favor of the opposite one. "If you had your fork, it'd be on the floor, not the pliers. And look," he showed her her bleeding thumb, dripping with fresh red, "you cut yourself on them."

Shock drained the color from her features. "Oh, my God. I-I don't understand."

The caramel skin was silken at her wrist, and Isaac brushed his fingertips over her tripping pulse there. "It could be a by-product from the Marker's signal. Maybe it was to release the subconscious pressure of fighting the madness?"

Ellie didn't take her attention from her bleeding thumb, startled, Isaac thought, that a moment of giving into the Marker's persuasion had almost cost her a finger. A first-aid kit had been placed in an emergency box near the door, so Isaac rummaged in it for the usual gel used as antiseptic and sealant. She accepted his ministrations without complaint or further attempt at conversation. Instead, when he drew back to inspect his handiwork, she slung her arms around his neck and landed a kiss on him.

Whatever shred of detachment he'd held onto snapped at the kiss. Arousal tracked up his stomach, a burgeoning lust that swallowed him and dragged him under hot waves. The kiss went deeper; Ellie's tongue met his and without thought, his hands greedily sought out her curves- -hips, breasts, ass. Hunger roared up, something Isaac had never faced before in the course of his relationship with Nicole, and he cowered from it because it felt too powerful and wrong. Then Ellie murmured his name in a dusky, boudoir tone, and he couldn't stop the hunger from taking him.

She gasped when he pinned her to the table's edge. He hoisted her up, and her breaking from his mouth allowed him to suck at her neck under her jaw. Materials scattered, crashed to the floor. Her breath came in great gulps, her hands between them on the snaps to her pants; one of his hands cupped the nape of her neck, and his other on her hip to balance her out. A miniscule part of him felt appalled that he considered this acceptable behavior for a man nearing middle-age, but the vast majority of him didn't give a shit what acceptable behavior was.

Especially not when her skin tasted like citrus, in a lemons and oranges way, all sweetness and sunshine, with an undertone of metallic, as though the mines had seeped into her pores. And especially not when she smelled unbelievable with that lavender-vanilla perfume and the heated need was too much to even comprehend inside him. He helped her tug her waistband below her knees, and together they attacked his pants, managed them, and when he was free, he immediately sank inside her slick, hot confines.

He somewhat expected his fidelity to Nicole to heel him, but he had no leash where Ellie was concerned. He could not stop kissing her. He could not peel off his hands from her. There was no remorse; it couldn't exist when he was so consumed with exquisite pleasure, with Ellie's throaty groans, and the forceful rhythm of their hips. She kept her arms around his shoulders, so when she tossed her head back, he could use his teeth to nip her throat. There was salt on her, now, and he felt beads of sweat break out across his forehead. Air was hard to intake with his nose buried in her hair.

A fissure spread through him, a powerful upheaval of mind and body, churning up to drown him, and when Ellie bucked against him, in the throes of climax, using his name as punctuation to the rapture she felt, there was nothing but burning release- -the breaking of tension held too tightly- -and lightning across his vision. He might've said her name…but he couldn't be sure of anything at that point.

Isaac could not say exactly how long they stayed in the circle of each other's arms and panted. Some time, he'd guess, but he wasn't paying much attention to time. No, he'd settled into a pleasant buzz, a feel-good drunken haze that promised to last for a while. Ellie was the first to shake off her post-climatic stupor. She put her hands flat on the table and leaned back. Her hair was wonderfully mussed.

"Aaaaah," she said, a cheeky grin beautiful on her, "that was good. And needed."

He nodded, too stunned that he fucked Ellie on a table, to form coherent words. Instead, he shuffled a couple steps away and fixed up his pants and steadied Ellie as she readjusted her clothing. Never had he and Nicole done anything so…spontaneous- -or dirty. Yet he had a sly smile fixated on his face as he leaned to pick up the tools knocked off because of their tryst. Luckily, their food remained intact. When they finished picking up, Isaac caught Ellie's wrist.

"Think we should call it an early night?" he asked her. "I wouldn't mind turning in."

She laughed. "I think that would be lovely. You do need your rest, Mr. Clarke. Doctor's orders."

Together they exited the Modification Workshop and went to Isaac's assigned room. To their surprise, they discovered that Greggs had put them next door to one another, and that their quarters were inter-connected with a door. The quarters also came with a refrigeration unit, so they could save their leftovers. They changed into nightclothes- -he, boxers and a shirt; she, the same- -brushed their teeth, and then slipped between the sheets after a few goodnight kisses. Isaac had forgotten how it felt to share a bed, to sling an arm around a slim waist and monitor soft breathing and to fit his body snugly enough along hers to soak in radiant warmth. At first, Ellie shuffled more than Nicole did, rubbing her feet together every few minutes, and as Isaac drifted into slumber, he wondered how many pieces of himself had loosened thanks to Ellie's prying.

He slept what felt like fifteen minutes, and he rose to semi-consciousness when someone forced open his eyelid and shined a bright light in his eye. It happened a second time to the other eye, and some loud snapping occurred at his ear. If he could move, he'd put a stop to that stupid snapping.

"Isaac? Isaac, c'mon, man. Wake up."

No. He was comfortable and didn't want to move. More damn snapping. Isaac stirred, his bones cracking as he did so, and blinked rapidly. "Hunh? Whaz wrong?" His mouth and tongue seemed dysfunctional, sheet-metal stiff. The world looked fuzzy.

Greggs was at his bedside, and behind him, arms crossed anxiously, was Ellie. Samson stood right behind Ellie, his hands resting on her thin shoulders, and a look of concern darkening his normally warm features. Isaac glanced around. A single lamp shed light to the corners of the smallish bedroom- -no blood on the walls, no broken glass, no sirens, no flickering lights or darkness, no screams, shrieks, or inhuman roars. No Necromorphs. Everything was…normal. Undisturbed. So what was the fucking problem?

Greggs sighed in relief as he helped Isaac sit up in the bed. "Ellie, would you get the man some coffee?" Ellie left without arguing or even a good morning as Greggs continued. "You had us scared there for a minute."

The doctor wasn't making any sense. Isaac had been peacefully asleep, goddammit. Gruffly, he said, "What the hell's going on?"

"Well, you've been sound asleep for a grand total of thirty-six hours."

Isaac yawned and rubbed his cruddy eyes. "Oh, is that all?"

"Around the clock, Isaac. Ellie couldn't even shake you awake," Greggs said. Seriousness underscored his words. "She could see and feel you breathing. She also said you'd murmur at her, and every now and again, you'd move, but you would not wake up. Finally, she became concerned enough to call me."

"I don't feel like I'm dying." Just like sleeping some more, Isaac thought. He'd better not put that to words.

Samson came forward, having stayed back during the conversation. "Would you please show us your hand, Mr. Clarke? The healing one."

Half out of it, Isaac upturned his left hand to them. Greggs grabbed it, and under his breath, said, "Holy shit. Is that for real?" Isaac let Greggs take the other hand. Some staring occurred. Then Samson hm-ed.

"Interesting," said Samson. "Mr. Clarke, would you mind showing us your healing shoulder?"

Isaac stared at the two doctors. "You know, I'm not a science project."

"No, no, Mr. Clarke. I understand completely, but I must know if your…condition…is the same everywhere or in your hand, particularly." To Isaac's irritated scowl, Samson said, "Look at your hand. Then you'll see."

Isaac looked at his hand. He didn't notice anything unusual, and when he wiggled the fingers, it felt fine. "There's nothing wrong."

"There's no scar," Greggs said. "You had a javelin pierce your hand _and there's no fucking scar_."

It hit Isaac, then. Greggs was right. The problem was that his hand _was _fine and there was _not _anything wrong.

"No fucking way." Isaac should have a circular scar on the palm and the back of his hand. But there was none. It should be stiff as the muscles and bones mended back together. But it had usual dexterity. The skin was perfect and showed no sign of ever having been damaged; it matched his right hand. Isaac hauled up the hem of his shirt to look at his shoulder- -and as it had been with his hand, there was no sign of scarring or of an injury whatsoever. A sick chill rippled through him. "What is this?"

"Perhaps a reverse power from the Marker," Samson said. "Its purpose is to kill and control. It has tried to kill and control you twice, and has failed. This healing might be an unforeseen benefit from Marker-killing."

"Did you know?" Isaac asked, the cold tingling his nerves. Paranoia reared up, ugly and brutal. "You told Ellie the Markers might be incapable of killing me. What made you say that?"

"It was a guess hazarded on the fact that everyone who's been in the presence of a Marker has become a tool for it, except you. It's possible you are too stubborn and intelligent to die, but it's more likely that there's something extra-ordinary about you that foils the Markers each time."

"Samson, I'm not some goddamn superhero."

Greggs barked a laugh. "I don't know about that. You're pretty heroic. And now…it looks like you're gaining superpowers."

"Don't tell Ellie. In fact, don't tell _anyone,_" Isaac said, realizing that if he was…changing or whatever, it could be disastrous and harmful to the people who were closest to him. "This may not be as good as you're making it seem."

"How can super-healing be _bad_?" Greggs asked.

"On the Sprawl, I was told that I suffered from some sort of rare dementia, aside from PTSD and drug-induced amnesia. The dementia was madness imprinted in my brain from the Marker." Isaac spread his hand out in front of him. "I was also told that it would kill me eventually. The longer I was awake, the more the Marker's signal could replicate inside my head. The same dementia could be doing this…and could still kill me. Even now," he lowered his hand, "I might be dying from it, and we don't know."

Both the other men toned down their delight at Isaac's apparent healing power after that little spiel. Greggs said, "Yeah, that's possible. This could be a one-time thing. Future injuries may heal at a normal speed…or heaven forbid, not at all."

Samson nodded gravely. "Very true. But I have a hunch that there's a design behind this we're not seeing. I wonder if you, Mr. Clarke, have been telling us everything?"

Isaac had never been a good liar because he practiced honesty and a strict adherence to the truth of matters. His honesty, and his determination, had been the crux of many an argument between Octavia Clarke and her son. He didn't want Greggs and Samson to think he was insane, but the Nicole-visions might be a significant part of what was happening to him.

"Swear to keep this to yourselves," Isaac said.

Samson and Greggs nodded, and their attention was absolute, as Isaac briefly outlined the few Nicole-visions he'd been having and how they differed from the ones he'd suffered from on the Sprawl. He also told them the premonition that had saved Ellie from cutting off her finger. When he finished, Samson was rubbing his chin and Greggs' mouth hung slack.

"I'll be damned," Greggs said. "An instrument of justice for the dead? That's so perfect it couldn't be any _more _perfect," he continued, face lighting, "because look where you're standing. You're on _Sweet Retribution_. It all fits. It all has divine meaning!"

Isaac's skin pimpled with Greggs' insight. Not possible. _Couldn't_ be possible. "You're reading too much into the situation, Greggs. These people are dead and gone. They aren't intervening with my fate. It's the Marker signal fucking with my wires."

Okay, so he couldn't lie to others, but apparently he could lie to himself well enough. Nicole, on the Sprawl, had said he'd succeeded over Stross because he hadn't fought the guilt, the madness, the Marker's sickness. He'd lived because he'd accepted, absorbed the terror and remorse and self-hate, and used it as a source of power to survive. Why, then, was it so hard to accept that thousands of dead spirits were gathered together to set his feet on a path he loathed to take? That they'd banded together, whispering and omniscient, in some supernatural force to gift him with tools to ensure his survival? To ensure retribution. To ensure atonement.

And as though Samson could track the course of Isaac's thoughts, he said, "Are you sure you believe that? Doesn't your experience dictate otherwise?"

Before Isaac answered, Ellie entered, carrying a to-go holder with four coffees. She stopped inside the doorway, glanced about for a second, and said, "I've interrupted something, haven't I."

Greggs motioned her closer. "No, not at all. We're bringing Isaac up to speed on the most recent news. Thanks for going for the coffee."

Greggs' easy transition into lighter affairs released Isaac from the burden of handling Ellie himself. Samson, too, seemed to adapt to the situation, and soon the four of them sipped coffee and conversed about subjects excluding the Marker and Unitologists. Unfortunately, the company did not distract Isaac from feeling as though a burdensome yoke had fitted over his shoulders. He disliked that it'd been done without his permission, since it was one he'd have to carry for the foreseeable future and one he wanted to shed as quickly as possible.

* * *

**A/N**: I do love the idea that the Marker bestowed Isaac with accidental powers. I also think that the song _Pretty Amazing Grace_ exemplifies the Isaac/Ellie relationship perfectly. Yes. Neil Diamond. Ugh, I feel old now. Next chapter to be published Sept. 22nd. See you then!

_Lite edits 3/9/13_


	8. Back to Square One

**A/N:** Welcome back, dear readers. It is good to see you again. I hope your week was productive and that you are having a relaxing weekend. Please, enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Back to Square One**

* * *

Greggs and Samson continued to smooth Ellie's ruffled feathers, and much to Isaac's chagrin, she allowed herself to be ushered out instead of fighting for answers. Upon parting, Samson told Isaac to come into the mod-shop if he felt like it. Isaac felt like it. The energy was sparking in his nerves, begging for release, but he couldn't wrap his head around his great health. He showered, dressed, and ate the last of his leftovers to sate his voracious appetite. And because he thought maybe Cpt. Samson would want to see him, he checked his RIG for any audio- or holo- messages. There were none. Perhaps she had other, more important priorities than kicking him off the ship. He couldn't complain if that was the case.

When Isaac stepped into the shop, Samson was already at the table working on a suit. "Ah, Mr. Clarke! Glad you decided to come. I've completed a couple more suits during your rest. We've got three more to go and the weapons."

"We should have the rest of the suits done tomorrow, with both of us working," Isaac said, coming up to the table. Samson was prodding a screwdriver at an unusual device that Isaac hadn't seen before. "What do you have there?"

Samson handed it to Isaac. The device was about the size and shape of a power node, and when Isaac turned it over in his hand, he saw there were a few buttons and a glowing miniature electrical pulse capsule. Samson said, "It's brand new…a type of cloaking module. You can hide your RIG signal unless you're programmed to the correct frequency. This'll be useful in going under the radar, so to speak, to avoid RIG signals being monitored."

"Clever. I could've used this to avoid Tiedemann's tracking me everywhere and making my life hell," Isaac said. "How's it work?"

Samson explained the inner-mechanisms of the device, and showed Isaac how to install it onto the back of the suit underneath the stasis monitor. Together, Samson and Isaac upgraded the sec-suit, and throughout the duration of their work, Isaac felt on Samson's wavelength, like their process of thinking and comprehension was exactly the same. Few people had ever understood Isaac's innate ability to understand the behavior of mechanical and electrical devices, his creativity and ease with machinery, but somehow, Samson matched Isaac's brainwaves stride for stride. Little escaped their attention; nothing except the job at hand preoccupied their minds and dominated their conversation.

Ellie dropped by with lunch in the middle of one of their discussions. She shook her head and laughed. "You boys sound like you're having fun. Isaac, how're you holding up?"

"Fine," he told her. "What do you have here?"

She held a stack of cardboard lunchboxes premade from the galley. Whatever was in them, the aroma from it made Isaac's mouth water.

"I couldn't believe it when I saw it." She sounded dreamy. "They were serving fish and chips! And! Dum-da-dum-dum!" Greggs walked in with cups and a plastic gallon container of amber liquid. "Beer!"

"Orders up, mates," Greggs said in perfect mimicry of Ellie's accent. "This is _Retribution's _own brew."

Laughing, everyone pitched in to set up lunch. Isaac found a roll of plastic sheeting and cut off enough to cover the mod-table and cleared it of sec-suit and parts. Greggs distributed the cups and poured the beer; Ellie, the boxes and a pile of ketchup packets. Samson scrounged around for napkins. Eating with fingers was implied. Finally they were seated and ready.

Samson opened one of the boxes. He closed his eyes as he inhaled. "I haven't had traditional fish and chips in ages. You are a Godsend, Ellie Langford."

"Someone here appreciates me," she said with a smirk.

They ate. Isaac was probably going to regret eating fried fish and fried potatoes, but he was ravenous enough to consume the entire container, even the paltry carrot and celery sticks hidden under the heap of fries. The beer was bitter enough to strip paint off a wall, but it was alcohol, and filling. What was more was that he hadn't been hungry just for food. He'd been starving for the company, the camaraderie shared among them, the laughter and togetherness of a group of people who shared a bond. He'd been alone for so long, he'd forgotten what it was to be a part of a wholesome inner-circle relationship.

Ellie, Samson, and Greggs had leftovers, but Isaac had none. Greggs whistled lowly. "You packed it away, Clarke." He glanced meaningfully at Ellie.

"Seriously?" Ellie craned her neck and saw that yes, Isaac had packed it away. "I hope you saved room."

Isaac narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"A little birdie told me it was your birthday," Ellie replied and slid an unopened box across the table to him. In the act of preparing for and consuming lunch, it'd gone unnoticed. "So I got you a special treat."

His mouth flopped open when he flipped up the top of the box. Inside was a beautiful chocolate cake. The creamy chocolate frosting looked perfect, and white icing spelled 'Happy Birthday' in careful script. He'd forgotten completely. As he stared at it like it was some priceless treasure, at a loss for words, tears nettled the back of his eyes.

"Ellie," he said, the words sticking in his throat, "Ellie, it's so…so thoughtful. Thank you."

Her eyes looked watery over her huge grin. "Oh, you know…"

"Happy birthday, man," Greggs said. He clapped a hand to Isaac's shoulder, "you've earned it."

Samson's honking his nose into a handkerchief added to Isaac's absolute surprise. The old man's tears ran in the folds of his wrinkles, and at the moment, Isaac found him more fatherly than Poul Clarke had ever been. Pleased happiness broke Isaac's mouth into a golden smile.

"Anyone have a knife?" he asked. "Otherwise, I'll be forced to eat the whole thing myself."

The others laughed at his joke. Heavy mood broken, Ellie produced a knife, which Isaac used to cut and divvy up the cake. In keeping with their lack of utensils, they each ate the cake with their hands, licking fingers free of dark, velvet frosting. The cake was rich and sweet and so much more decadent than Isaac had eaten in a very long time, but he enjoyed each and every second of it. Soon after, they cleaned up and as Ellie helped Isaac gather the cups, she grabbed his forearm and ducked under the table, pulling him with her.

"Half-an-hour. Your place," she told him. "Don't be late."

At first, he wasn't sure what she meant, but when she snapped her head forward and planted a sizzling kiss on his mouth, he accepted and got her meaning simultaneously. Then Ellie withdrew and stood to finish cleaning up the mod-table. When Greggs and Ellie said their goodbyes, Isaac couldn't prevent a secret smile to himself. Fifteen minutes later, Isaac told Samson he needed a break and that he'd be back in about an hour's time. Samson grunted, his attention solely on the sec-suit on the table. Isaac beat Ellie to his living quarters, and as he waited, his heart aflutter, he obsessed in the mirror about his crow's feet, salt and pepper hair, and her age, and tried to talk himself out of this rendezvous before things got too serious.

It didn't work. She entered through the door that connected their rooms, and when she stopped on the threshold, with a bit of shyness in her stance, all Isaac's doubt evaporated and things did get very serious, very fast. They drew together. Amid passionate kissing, the clothes flew off them and within minutes, he was skin-to-skin to her, sweaty, and flying high on rapture. Ellie was a wildcat- -he felt her nails rake his back, her cries high-pitched- -especially when she came, and her wanton thrashing pushed him into a blind, seared climax. Speed-sex wasn't a normal practice for him; in his experience, slow and steady won the race, but Ellie demanded a high-octane performance that left him both satisfied and spent.

"Happy birthday," she said, dragging in air, "and many more."

"Let's hope so," he replied, as winded as she. His heart was beating hard enough to feel in his back. "I can hardly keep up with you."

She laughed a beautiful sound from her throat. "Yeah…hate to tell you, but you're practically a senior citizen."

"Gee. Thanks." Good-naturedly, he pinched her side. She chuckled, moving aside so he could roll off the bed and reach for his clothes. "You mind if I head out? I want to catch up on the work I missed on the suits."

"That's fine." Ellie turned to her side and propped her head on her hand. "I wanted to tell you that Greggs made arrangements for me to work in the shuttle bay. I start tomorrow morning."

"As maintenance and repair?"

"Yeah. All the gunships aboard were replaced with shuttles, and the people here fly to jobs on other stations. It's how Samson keeps up the network of information. People keep their ears open all over the Sol and report back here to HQ."

Isaac sat on the edge of the bed, having finished dressing. "Hm. Commuters are unusual. People usually live the same place they work. Haven't there ever been inquiries into their living arrangements?"

"You know, I asked the same thing. Officially," she lowered her voice conspiratorially, "_Sweet Retribution _is documented as a private living community, like a condo or apartment complex. Everything is arranged at Delivery Systems for post and packages to be picked up by one of the crew here so that there aren't any suspicions."

Isaac saw the genius in that. "That makes sense. The community has an address, but if station security or EarthGov wants to check it out, _Retribution _can move to different coordinates before being discovered."

"Samson has quite the operation." She went silent and calculating. "It makes me think that"- -her face scrunched- -"nah, never mind."

He heard the gears cranking in her head, and the same lever started the gears turning in _his _head, how Samson had mentioned that he'd started the Clarke Faction three years ago when the _Ishimura _went dark. But based on what Isaac had seen so far of _Retribution _and the intricacies of the Clarke Faction network, he wondered if three years seemed enough time to set all of it up.

"Three years for such a huge organization…" he started, half in thought. Had there been a resistance against Unitology before then?

"Right," Ellie agreed. "I can't help but feel that this would take much longer to institute, that it started _earlier_ than three years ago."

Another thought flitted into his mind. "How does Greggs know Samson? We never did get the full story from him."

"What do you mean?" She sat upright, brows knitted.

"Everyone that we've met so far has had some sort of connection to the _Ishimura, O'Bannon,_ or the Aegis VII colony. They've been forthright with their histories, but not Greggs. In fact, he's never said a word about how he got involved in the Clarke Faction."

"Your paranoia is showing, Clarke."

He cupped her chin and looked seriously in those mixed eyes. "Paranoia, or a point?"

"Isaac! Greggs isn't a spy!"

"Look, it can't hurt to be sure. You two've been spending a lot of time together. Maybe you can prod him for information. It'd make me feel better, anyway, to know of Greggs' involvement with Samson and the Clarke Faction."

She frowned. "Are you sure this isn't some half-cocked jealous streak?"

"I'm not jealous."

"Yeah, right. That's exactly what my ex said before beating the shit out of one of my male co-workers."

"I don't hold sway over you. You're Ellie Langford." Her mouth was full and sensuous under the light touch of his thumb. "You make your own choices, and you don't have to do anything _I_ say. I won't stop you if you choose him over me. I'm surprised you haven't already."

"You're ridiculous. I would never choose him over you."

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why when pounding on his door interrupted them. "Isaac Clarke! Isaac Clarke, this is Orne Walsh, Chief of Security." A gruff, barking voice, with 'don't fuck with me' imprinted in the tone. "Open up!"

Isaac hauled Ellie naked from the bed, grabbed her clothes, and dragged her with mute haste into the bathroom. He shoved her in and dumped her clothes into her arms. "Whatever you do, don't move and don't speak. If you don't hear from me in a few hours, get to a shuttle and get the fuck off. Do you understand?"

"But-"

He kissed her, fierce in that show of affection, perhaps his last. "Understand?"

She nodded, not fearful but stubborn, and that shored him up as he closed the bathroom door to conceal her, leaving it ajar. Chief Walsh pounded on the door again to announce his presence. Isaac's adrenaline had spiked, and glancing around one last time, he didn't see anything out of place. He checked the screen that acted as a peephole; a security badge was pressed flat on the eye. As he brought up his hand to release the door lock, it disengaged before he even swiped his hand over it.

The gun was what he saw first, a long-barreled, single cartridge piece of grey metal, aimed low to his waist, then his eyes went up and up and up to Orne Walsh. Walsh was a man built in place of a wall. Shoulders touched from door jamb to door jamb, and the security uniform didn't do much to hide the corded muscles bunched inside. The man had fly-away brown hair under a cap and a matching goatee.

"Keep your hands out where I can see them," Walsh stated as he tucked away his badge.

Isaac stepped back and to the side and kept his hands out. "Am I under arrest, Chief Walsh?"

"Nope, your holiness, but you're coming with me anyway." He waved the gun. "Let's move. Nice and slow."

"Where to?"

"The bridge. The Cap awaits."

Isaac remained rooted to his spot, not wholly convinced, wanting Ellie to know as much as possible. "She could've called me on my RIG."

"Look. I don't want to force you along, but if you keep prying for answers and _not moving,_ well…things might get a bit ugly. Cap wanted you on the bridge, so she sent me to make sure you showed and," he punctuated his next statement with an unpleasant prod from the gun, "you'll show. Comprendez?"

To be a smart ass, Isaac had it in his mind to correct compren_-dez _to compren_-day_, as French was one of his mother's learned languages, but with a barrel-sized bruise aching on his ribs, wisely kept his mouth shut and walked out of the room away from Ellie in the bathroom with the cracked door. Walsh used a hand on Isaac's shoulder to remind him who was boss, and Isaac didn't make any sudden movements or attempt to get away. At the touch, Isaac had the distinct impression that Walsh wasn't to be trusted as far as Isaac could throw him. The aura Isaac felt from Walsh was pervasive, like the presence of the Marker throbbing psychic airwaves, but Walsh's aura was human. It was blind, power-hungry, and cowardly.

They took some side routes, to avoid the public eye, Isaac assumed, and so that Walsh could continue to keep him at gunpoint. But as soon as they reached the bridge, Walsh holstered his weapon, presumably to avoid conflict from the crew on the bridge, and directed Isaac by the crook of the elbow to the elevator and consequently, the captain's nest.

Cpt. Samson stood facing away, her attention out of a window that overlooked the distant Rhea Station. "Thank you, Chief. You've been most helpful. You are dismissed."

"Yes, ma'am. Call me if you need me."

She remained as she was. "I'll do so."

Walsh lumbered into the elevator to depart. Isaac stood in the middle of the captain's nest, perturbed, and waited for Cpt. Samson to elaborate on his presence there. She out-waited him as she stared into space without speaking. Her shoulders were straight and squared off, and she'd folded her hands at the small of her back. Isaac endured a long silence. The atmosphere climbed to a tense and uncomfortable level, and he knew Cpt. Samson deliberately manipulated the situation to best intimidate him. However, if she planned on exiling him from _Sweet Retribution_, she'd have to do it while he still lived. At this rate, he would die of old age before she deigned to address him.

"Cpt. Samson," Isaac started, but cut off when she turned abruptly and pinned him with a cool glare, telling him without words that he was not to speak unless spoken to. All right, then.

Another few minutes of silence as she continued to stare out of the window into space. "Mr. Clarke," she said, finally, "have you always been in the habit of ignoring messages from the captain of a vessel? Or are you too busy manipulating my father to grace me with your exulted presence?"

Her attack surprised him into raising a hand to stop her verbal assault. "Whoa. Wait. Back up," he said, "what do you _mean _ignoring messages? I haven't received any."

"That," she said, coldly, "is utter bullshit. It doesn't matter. You'll be off this ship at oh-six-hundred tomorrow, between third shift and first. I look forward to your departure, Mr. Clarke."

Isaac didn't care that she was sending him away; he _did _care that his integrity was in question, and though EarthGov sought to assign to his character fictitious evil deeds, he wouldn't have Cpt. Samson do it. "I'm not lying."

"Liars always say they're not lying."

"I'm not a liar," Isaac asserted, a dark and powerful entity bubbling up inside him, "and there're other explanations." He accessed his RIG's message system and showed it to her via hologram. "See, there are no messages. You've been attempting to contact me for a few days, and my RIG hasn't been accepting your messages."

"Your time has run out, Mr. Clarke," Cpt. Samson snapped with an air of exasperation. "I'm not interested in your excuses."

Isaac's irritation matched hers, but he remained patient. "Have someone contact me over RIGlink. Anyone," he told her. When she eyed him, he shrugged. "I'll make you a deal. If you're not convinced after I've had this last chance, I'll leave _immediately, _no questions asked, no fighting."

He wasn't sure she'd go for his offer, but she activated her audiolink in a motion that told him she did it against her better judgment. "Rooster, can you trace Mr. Clarke's RIG?"

"Yes, Cap," came the immediate answer. "He's with you in the captain's nest."

"Good. Open up a hololink on his RIG, if you wouldn't mind," Cpt. Samson said. Isaac showed her that his RIGlink was operating and on. After a couple seconds, she said, "Do so now, please."

"I did, ma'am, a coupla times," Rooster said over her audio, "but his RIG's not picking up."

"That's impossible. It's on!"

"Sorry, Cap. His RIG's not responding to any queries," Rooster said. "Might be something blocking the signal."

"Thank you, Rooster. You've been most helpful," she said. She glanced at Isaac. "Turn around."

Isaac hesitated as he considered questioning her, but he decided to do as she told him and faced away from her. She came up behind him, and he felt her mess around with the stasis module near his health meter.

"Ah-ha." A snap of metal releasing metal. His RIG dinged ten or eleven times consecutively to tell Isaac he had messages he'd missed. "This is new. Turn back around, Mr. Clarke."

She scowled at an object in her hand, contained in a small, circular case which looked like an old Earth-style coin before credits became the universal currency, but much thicker. "This little device was blocking your RIG from receiving messages."

Where the device came from, he thought he could bet his life on. "Do you believe me now?"

"Be that as it may, you will be off this vessel at oh-six-hundred and not a moment later. Are we clear?"

"About that," Isaac said. "Would you allow me to stay until all the suit and weapon modifications have been completed? If your father's outfitting a Marker-killing team, the person who's killed a couple Markers should be used as a resource during the process. It makes sense."

"You have my answer."

A nerve pinched behind his right eye and he winced.

"You have work to do yet," Nicole reminded him over his audiolink. "You can't leave _Retribution._ Remember Olden." The doctor's terrified pale face, skin soaked with sweat, and frame shivering under Isaac's presence flickered in his mind's eye. "You are much more powerful than you believe. Besides, if you run away, Ellie will die."

Fear rose, a scrabbling, panicked animal in his chest and throat. He struggled against it, against the quickening heartbeat, against the control fear exerted over him. Ellie would be well taken care of on _Retribution_, and if he left, he'd take all his troubles with him. She deserved to be left in peace.

"You should have left her on Rhea Station, then," Nicole said. "No one would've been the wiser. But you've brought her on board, into the fold of the Clarke Faction. She will not find peace here if you leave."

Would Samson recruit her for his Marker-killing team? No, no, absolutely not. Samson wouldn't recruit her, but Ellie, in defiance against Isaac's wishes for her to remain safe, would volunteer for the mission into Rhea Station to destroy the Grey Marker. That would be something she'd do, just to stick it to Isaac should he leave her behind. Ellie had faced off with Necromorphs, sure, but she'd never been face-to-face with the power of a Marker, its insidiousness, its mad genius. Her strength would fail her; terror would overcome her or she'd go insane or die fighting a mutated Necromorph.

His anger surged forward, from deep beneath his level passivity, and roiled a dangerous darkness up inside him. "I won't go, Captain," he said. She swung around, fury burning bright in her eyes, and opened her mouth to refute him. Isaac continued at a cool, measured pace. "Your father is serious about deploying a Marker-killing team, and he needs all the help he can get to design and modify suits and weapons. I've been there, been in the center of horror and gore and insanity, and I know what a Marker is capable of. He's asked for my help and I'm going to give it to him, regardless of your orders."

They stared each other down, but Isaac was determined and unafraid of her, his anger smoldering under the surface of his calm demeanor. The worst she could do was to kill him, and he didn't think she'd go so far as to murder him on her own bridge. Orne Walsh might. Walsh seemed more than willing to put down Isaac Clarke.

"I could have you charged and expelled for mutiny, Mr. Clarke," she spat, but her former bluster was not apparent. "You have your time. For the moment."

Her dismissal was implicit when she wheeled away from him, so he went to the elevator and stepped in.

The doors closed and the thrum of the electricity powering the car blocked out all sounds, and he rubbed his temple with his fingers. His anger cooled, and he was back to normal when the doors parted. Standing a step beyond was Noah, Samson, Greggs, and Ellie, who all seemed to have been waiting for the elevator.

They stepped back together, of one mind to give him room, all saying his name in one form or another to greet him. Isaac kept his gaze on Ellie, comprehending deep to his bones that if he left, _someone _would fight his battles, would have less a chance of surviving than if he'd taken responsibility for them. Nicole was right. The one person who was capable of fighting Isaac Clarke's battles was Isaac Clarke. But even so, he didn't think he'd live through a third encounter with a Marker.

"Isaac? Are you…all right?" she asked. Her head tilted as she leaned closer. "You seem very serious."

"Yeah, I'm okay. What are you doing here?" he asked.

Ellie's hand alighted on his chest. "I was concerned for your safety, so I linked with Greggs and Samson, and Noah was there. I told them that the captain had sent Chief Walsh for you. We came to ensure you were treated fairly."

"Well, no broken bones here," Isaac said. "She sent security because my RIG wasn't receiving any links. There was a device," he said, demonstrating the size and shape of it with his forefinger and thumb, "installed on my RIG." Then to Samson, "You wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you?"

Samson shook his head. "No. That is not something I would have designed. What did it do?"

"It blocked my RIG from receiving audio- and holo- links." Isaac noticed Noah's stricken expression. "Cpt. Samson about threw me off the ship because she thought I was ignoring her messages. I managed to convince her to keep me on until I finished helping with the suit and weapon mods. After that, I can't be sure."

"You changed Cap's mind?" Greggs said from the side. "She _never _changes her mind."

"Yeah, seriously, my mom's like the hardass of hardasses," Noah muttered from the side, and when Greggs cuffed him upside the head- -"Ouch! What the heck?"

"That's Cap you're cursing _and_ your mother. Besides, a fourteen-year old shouldn't use profanity."

Isaac watched this exchange without opinion. He said, "I don't think I have much time. If we want the mods finished, we should get going. Ellie, thanks for checking up on me. Samson? Should we go?"

Samson smiled. "We should."

"Noah, think you'd like to join us?" Isaac asked as an afterthought.

"Awesome!" Noah said. "Yeah, that'd be great!"

Good, thought Isaac as Greggs and Ellie departed from them, because I want to see if you're smart enough and creative enough to design something as intricate as a RIG-signal blocking chip. The timeframe was correct…the last time he'd received a link from another RIG was _before _the lunch with Noah, and as experienced as Samson was with mechanics, Isaac had the feeling the old man would not have done anything to put Isaac on Cap's shit list.

* * *

**A/N:** This chapter has the capacity to make me smile. :) And as always, let me know questions or comments. Next update on 09/29/12. See you then!


	9. Duty Calls

**A/N:** Welcome back, dear readers and lurkers. Thank you for returning after another long week. I hope you enjoy!

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**Chapter Nine: Duty Calls**

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After working several hours with Noah, Isaac's suspicions were confirmed. Noah's comprehension of mechanical devices was proficient, and he worked with precision and efficiency. With Noah's help, two of the sec-suits were completely outfitted, and they'd started on the last one. Based on what Isaac had seen, Noah had the capacity to create a RIG-signal blocking device and of course, had ample opportunity to plant it into Isaac's RIG drive.

All through the duration of modifying the sec-suits, Isaac debated whether he should confront Noah about the device or let it slide. Noah was a kid and wanted Isaac to stay; at least, that was what Isaac assumed since there seemed to be no meanness in Noah's actions. However, the device was put on Isaac's RIG without permission, a lie performed with actions, and it had caused more harm than good in the long run. Cap had not trusted Isaac before, and the device put a strain on their already volatile relationship. And furthermore, what would have happened if Ellie had needed to contact him in the event of an emergency?

That decided him. If he picked his moment properly, he'd be able to confront Noah without humiliating the kid and ruining whatever respect he had for Isaac. The moment presented itself when Samson stepped out for a restroom break, cursing the 'disagreement between his bladder and age'.

"If you wanted a breather, you could take one, too," Isaac told Noah. They were sitting on their stools at the modification table, the last sec-suit spread out in front of them. "You've been working hard."

Noah shook his head without a break in concentration from upgrading the stasis module. "Nah. I'm good. Thanks, though."

Act casual, Isaac reminded himself. Don't scare him off. "You know, you would've found that little blocking device pretty interesting. It snapped in right under the stasis monitor." Noah said nothing, but the soldering iron in his fingers went still. Isaac baited him. "There must've been a miniaturized electrical pulse capsule in there to power it."

"The RIG was the power source," Noah corrected immediately. "When it magnetically snaps under the module, it has some panels that pick up the electrical frequency from the RIG. It's like solar panels that way. As long as the RIG is active, so's the parasite."

"Parasite?"

Noah grinned. "Yeah. It sucks energy without permission. Totally cool, right?"

"Hm-hm. It sounds very covert…elite EarthGov or Black Ops. The parasite must be in production and commonplace with EarthGov, then."

Noah's grin became a youthful laugh. "Nah. They're not so smart as that. You can make a parasite using a hundred credits' worth of parts, easy."

"Is that what you did in my case?"

"Pffft, I didn't spend _any_ credits. I used what I found around here to build it." That was all Isaac needed to know. When he said nothing further, giving Noah a gaze rife with disapproval, the kid understood what Isaac knew. His shoulders slumped. "I'm real, _real _sorry. I thought that if…if my mom couldn't get a hold of you, you'd be able to stay longer."

"You built a clever piece of machinery, but when you stuck it on, you ruined what little trust your mother had for me. She's clamoring for my exile more than ever now," Isaac replied. "But it was bound to happen anyway, and you're not at fault for doing what you thought would help."

Noah's face was serious as he nodded. "I get it. I didn't mean for it to worsen the situation."

Before their conversation could continue, Samson returned from the restroom. Isaac did not mention Noah's involvement with the parasite, nor did he mention the distinct impression that Cap knew Noah was involved. It was not to him to participate in family affairs. Finally, they finished the security suit modifications. Noah and Isaac helped Samson jockey the suit into the closet that was fuller and more crowded than Isaac recalled it being, but they closed and locked the doors. Samson used the tips of his fingers to roll up a small panel of buttons next to the closet; he tapped in a code, and Isaac heard the thrum of machinery behind the wall.

Samson said, "Do you want to meet the team? I want them to try their suits and modules on for size. Besides, we need someone to bring up the weapons so we can begin with those modifications."

"Can I come, too?" asked Noah. His eyes were wide. "Please, Gramps?"

Dryly, Samson chuckled. "I can't say no to you, dearest boy. All right, but let Isaac and I talk."

"YES"- -accompanied with a fist pump.

"I wondered if you'd already built a team," Isaac said to Samson and followed him out of the mod shop. Noah tagged along behind him.

"Yeah," said Noah before Samson could answer, "Gramps took volunteers first, and had Dr. Greggs run them through a number of health and psychology tests. The ones that scored the strongest were the ones that were picked. Pretty neat, eh?"

Isaac agreed. They took a tram to the Weaponry and Security Deck, which in order to get in, one needed clearance levels. Samson had the clearance. As its name suggested, ship's security was more prevalent on this deck, with the security's main office occupying the deck and of course, the brig. On a plaque, an Orne Walsh digital snapshot was displayed above a series of others which seemed to be his subordinating officers; the food chain, Isaac saw. The officers patrolling the deck were in better uniform than what Isaac had seen so far aboard, and they were at ease with their weapons and stride. Each pair of officers greeted Samson.

"We tried to use people who had military or prior security forces training and experience," Samson explained as they tread deeper into the bowels of the deck. "Delilah was most helpful in choosing the correct employees for the security forces. Our community has been safe and well looked-after by these fine men and women."

Wonderful. Security made Isaac itch, but he endured until Samson's clearance allowed them entrance into a Battle Ready Room. The Battle Ready Room was an expansive, wide-open space with high ceilings and a few obstacles built from crates. A couple doors led to different rooms, such as Weapons and Armory, Weapon Repair, and several stasis and oxygen recharge stations lined the walls of the arena. Several figures, wearing the dark red and black suits that Samson, Noah, and Isaac had completed ten minutes ago, were using stasis and kinesis to full capacity. He was pleased to see that the team incorporated his learned techniques well.

Samson audiolinked to one individual. "Major, I have Isaac Clarke here. Would you mind gathering the team together?"

Isaac did not hear the response, but rather, saw it. A cue that had probably been sent over the audiolink was given, and the people stopped their practice, jogging into a single-line formation. When they were close enough, they spread out and stood shoulder-to-shoulder, all five of them, and disengaged their visors. Three men and two women gazed steadily ahead. The leader of the group, a bald man with a face carved from stone and hawk-like eyes, stepped forward. Isaac's nerves prickled; astute attention was on him from five sets of eyes.

"Mr. Clarke, sir, we're honored to have you aboard, and thank you for modifying our suits," the older man said in a straight-forward, mechanical voice bred of military necessity. "I'm Major George Kaassen, team leader for Samson's Marker-killing group." He stepped back.

The next man stepped forward. His rusty-red hair and spread of freckles over nose and cheeks had Isaac pegging him for early twenties, but the shadowed blue eyes bespoke of the wisdom brought on by experience. He, too, stood at attention. "Alex Treyton. Second in command, sir. Good to see you, sir."

Beside him was a beautiful woman with a smooth ebony skin, her hair done in intricate braids close to her head and framing her face. Her teeth were vivid white against the dark of her face. "Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Clarke. I'm Cleopatra Koroma, or Leo to my mates. I was a miner on Prometheus while my sister's family worked on Aegis VII"- -her accent was a lovely lilt, and reminded Isaac of Ellie- -"and I've decided I've had enough of Unitology's lies. Thank you for helping us."

On her side was another man, forties, rakish features under neatly clipped blond hair. "Webster Calhoune, Mr. Clarke. I pilot anything that flies, and I'm ready to give some payback to that bitch Marker that stole my twin sister from me."

Lastly was a youngish woman, who looked for the universe like she'd come off a Peng poster, with pouty pink lips and blue and purple hair and her eyes thickly lined, the lashes coated with heavy mascara. "Lawrence Yamamoto, Wren for short. I want to kill Unitology, end of story." She couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen with an attitude twice her size, but he thought she might be a young twenty with a youthful look.

"Thank you," Isaac replied. If they expected some tidbit of inspiration, he had none, so he said, "Everything looks functional."

"Yes, yes. All of you are marvelous in those new suits." Samson adjusted his glasses. "How're the modifications running?"

Samson and Kaassen engaged in some shop-speak that Isaac listened to with disinterest. He saw movement out of his peripheral vision. Noah had sidled up to Wren, color high on his cheeks, shy smile bright on his face, and attempted to engage in conversation. Isaac wondered if Noah's crush on Ellie had waned.

"Mr. Clarke." Leo spoke to him, with Calhoune and Treyton loose at her sides. She seemed warm, friendly. "How are you finding your stay aboard _Retribution_?"

Isaac relaxed. "Comfortable. It's been a long time since I've had any semblance of order or safety in my life."

"Will you tell us about it? I mean, we've seen the vids and everything and have learned your techniques for killing Necromorphs, but…that's not experience enough, is it?"

He hesitated, glancing from Leo to Treyton to Calhoune, and wanted them to survive, to live through the ludicrous idea concocted by an old man with an ideal he wouldn't release. But a Necromorph outbreak…how could he even put to words what he experienced? He should convince them to abandon the idea. Let the Unitologists destroy themselves with their damn religion and Markers. Pain screamed behind his right eye.

"But it's not themselves they're destroying," Nicole whispered over his audiolink. "They're destroying innocent lives."

His skin crawled with a sudden dip in temperature. The lights flickered, went out, and when the orange emergency lights caused a murky haze in the Battle Ready Room, apparitions stood crowded in the room, but the room had no end. Collectively, Isaac felt the presence of thousands, the accrued populations of Aegis VII, the _Ishimura_, _O'Bannon_, and the Sprawl, standing in a sea of surrealism. Their bodies were transparent, but human, colorful and glowing in the dimness of the lights, and they were not torn into pieces or bloodied, but how they appeared in life.

Nicole slipped her hand into his- -how she could do so when she, too, was a ghost, Isaac didn't know, but she did it nonetheless. "Isaac, don't we deserve justice? We were innocent. We were loved and cherished. And we were murdered." She swept her free arm to indicate the many thousands. "We've chosen you. We'll help you. You can atone if you allow us to rest in peace."

"You won't stop hounding me until I exact revenge."

She looked sad as she shook her head. "No. It is not vengeance we want. The corruption perpetuated in EarthGov and Unitology has been unchecked, and mankind will be destroyed by their obsession with power. Good people still exist, Isaac-love, they exist and should be protected."

"I'm not a hero," Isaac told her. "This is too much. I can't be what you're asking."

"You're not alone. You have us as your driving force. _We _will stand with you at all times. The group of people standing before you is loyal, save one. Teach them to defend themselves, teach them to use their weapons, and bring them with you to destroy the Markers. Destroy the Markers, Isaac. You will be atoned…and set free. And Isaac," Nicole released his hand, "the ship's security is coming for you. Prepare yourself."

Rustling and whispering rose to the rafters of the place, a heady sense of timelessness and helplessness overwhelmed Isaac at that point, cold and huge and enveloping, and he backed away from Nicole and the souls of the innocent men and women and children that had been sacrificed for the epitome of evil. He didn't want this. His battle was over and finished, but these people were fixated on him being their shield and sword. The emergency lights blinked off, and the regular ship's lights flickered on again, but even as Isaac recognized the change in lights, the pain behind his eye expanded, pluming into his brain, resonating the horrified shrieks of thousands of people- -the sinister telepathy of the Grey Marker that could mean one thing and one thing only.

The first piece was moved on the proverbial chessboard.

"Oh, God, Mr. Clarke, are you okay?" Leo's voice, distant, asked. "Quickly, someone call Dr. Greggs!"

Isaac's pain shut off abruptly, an open valve twisted to closed, and he lowered his hands where he'd clamped them over his ears. Fuck, he was locked into this fate and no matter how he thrashed and ran and denied he couldn't escape. He wouldn't escape.

Everyone had gathered around him in concern. He felt shaken as he spoke to Samson, to _all_ of them, "No. I'm fine." But his throat had closed under his racing mind, his dread. "The Grey Marker on Rhea Station…it's active. We need to get Rhea evacuated _now._"

Samson looked as if he'd been smacked. "What? How do you know about the Grey Marker?"

"What I know doesn't matter; those people _do._ You said there were computer techs aboard _Retribution_?" Samson nodded slowly. "Good. Get them together. Tell them they'll be hacking into Rhea Station's emergency broadcast systems. Calhoune, we need a shuttle to get there and back. Find one and prep it. The rest of you, get weapons…line racks, contact beams, plasma cutters, pulse rifles, and extra ammo…as much as you can carry. Get aboard the shuttle and prepare for lift-off." To their credit, they took his orders and broke apart, hustling toward Weapon Repair.

"But Rhea Station is huge! How're you going to convince people to get off?" asked Noah. His face was white. "You plan to tell them about the Marker?"

"No. I'm going tell them I'm targeting their station like I targeted Titan," Isaac replied, grimly. "I _am _the most-wanted criminal in the Sol. Samson, where's my sec-suit and plasma cutter?"

The next fifteen minutes were a furious series of actions. Isaac recorded a holovid to be broadcast over the emergency system on Rhea Station that he handed to Noah to keep until Samson was finished giving directions to the computer specialists, who were positive they could manage the hack and sustain it until a message was relayed.

While Isaac had been sleeping, Samson had modified an additional red sec-suit and stored with it the refurbished plasma cutter Isaac had used on Titan. Wearing the suit was like wearing cardboard- -the suit was stiff, but light, and with time, would be flexible enough to his needs. As he stocked up open pockets with spare 25-count plasma cartridges, the door to Weapons Repair flew open.

"Mr. Clarke," Cpt. Samson said from her position flanked by Orne Walsh and a number of other guards, "you are leaving effective immediately. Put aside the cutter and come peacefully."

Isaac had been shot at before, and he didn't relish the idea of it happening again, so very slowly, he set aside the plasma cutter and raised his hands in capitulation. Nothing to shoot at here, officers.

"Delilah?" Samson moved forward the same time Orne Walsh and a second officer did. He was mid-way between Isaac and Cap and blocked Orne and the other guy with his body. "What's this?"

"Yeah, Mom. What the hell?" Noah also stepped in front of Isaac, as if a scrawny fourteen-year old could stop a six-foot tall beefcake with a gun. "Isaac's here to _help_."

"The answer's simple," Cap replied, facing her father and son with dignity and confidence, "I don't want him aboard this vessel a second longer. At thirteen-hundred hours, EarthGov approved a search-and-destroy mission to neutralize Isaac Clarke's threat to the Sol."

"They'll never find him here," Samson said. His hands were up to calm the restless security. "We're safe on _Retribution_. I don't like warfare, but that's exactly what this is. Warfare. And _Retribution_ is amply structured for war."

"Mom, he's the one person who can kill the Markers successfully." Noah's gestures were exaggerated. Tension weighted the air unbearably. "You can't kick him off!"

"He's right," said Samson. "If you send him off, he'll be captured by EarthGov, and heaven knows what'll happen to him then. A quick death, if he's lucky. And what of the innocent people that will die if Unitology succeeds in instigating a Convergence event?"

"Dad, that's none of my concern. My concern is the crewmembers and their families, right here, right now, on _Retribution_. EarthGov can't be given an excuse to attack and possibly destroy all of us."

Samson's hands clenched. "It's that type of selfishness that gave EarthGov and Unitology the power and resources to build such an evil as the Markers. We are in a position to prevent so much death, so much corruption from spreading. That was the original intent of the Clarke Faction and we are so close! We are on the edge of the precipice for changing the very course of history…and you want to _withdraw_. You disappoint me. Where are your guts, girl?"

Delilah's face was washed out under the fluorescent lights of the room. "As you say, Dad. Chief Walsh, put Mr. Clarke into custody."

"_NO_!" Noah wheeled around to Isaac. "You _can't_ let her do this!"

The last thing Isaac wanted to do was cause a rift between a family. "Everyone calm down. I'll go without a fight."

"Noah, come here!" Delilah said. "Lt. Bailey, subdue my son, please."

Instantly, Isaac saw what would happen. Noah's level of stress and frustration and anger shook the kid's shoulders violently. There would be a fight, Noah would struggle, and something very bad would happen with the twitchy security. Isaac settled his hands on Noah's shoulders and attempted to exude stoic calmness.

"This is all right," Isaac said. "Your mother's doing what's best for everyone, including you and your grandfather. You can't control this. Let it happen." He lowered his hand to the chip that contained the recorded holovid in Noah's pocket. Isaac lowered his voice to a whisper, "If you want to help, you run when I give you a chance."

Noah nodded, his jaw muscles tight. Bailey was close enough to reach out a hand, slipping it around Noah's upper-arm. Noah did not resist Bailey's pull and followed like his legs were malfunctioning, but Isaac knew the kid had his mother's nerves of steel. He'd get the holovid to the computer specialists. Samson, like his grandson, was brushed aside as Chief Walsh came to Isaac to put him under magnetic restraints. The metal was unyielding around his wrists and even through the synthetic skin of the suit, Isaac felt the coldness of those restraints.

"You're making a mistake," Samson said to his daughter, "a terrible mistake."

Delilah ignored her father. "Bring them with us. There's a shuttle standing by."

Walsh shoved him at the shoulder, staggering Isaac forward, off-balance, but he recovered his footing as he was yanked upright by the elbow. Immersed in the security force, Isaac marched along and kept his eye peeled on Noah. Isaac would be the one to shake off the hand to give Noah room to make a break for it. He'd wait until they were out of the security deck, to where side doors and passages were accessible to civilians and crewmembers alike.

As they waited for the tram, Isaac overheard Delilah speaking to the bridge with directions to clear their path of bystanders and workers. She wanted his dismissal quiet, then. Isaac spared a sly glance over his shoulder to catch Samson's eye then he subtly inclined his head to indicate Noah. Samson's eyebrows jumped, and he nodded once. For awhile, the group traveled in peace. But when they arrived to a corridor that was tight with multiple corners and doors, Isaac seized the advantage.

Without warning, he heaved his weight sideways into Walsh and slammed the heavier man up against the wall. At the same time, he kicked out his legs, catching the officer flanking him off guard and tripping him up. In the corner of Isaac's eye, he saw Samson go limp in the grip of the other guard, whose reaction was to try and catch the falling elderly man.

"Noah! Go!" Isaac yelled.

The pandemonium that Isaac and Samson caused was enough. Noah, the fast-thinker, tore out of Bailey's grip and sprinted down the corridor, careening around a corner out of sight. He ignored his mother's shouts to stop and come back.

Walsh had turned from tamed to rabid in that brief span of time. He wrestled Isaac cheek-to-floor, planting a knee with the force and mass that made Walsh the slab of musculature he was into Isaac's spinal column. Isaac had been in worse pain, so he gritted his teeth and bore the brunt of Walsh's attack. His nerves and the exertion (and the trauma on his spine) had sprung sweat onto Isaac's forehead. When he felt the raw barrel of the gun at his nape, Isaac immediately stopped squirming.

"It would be easy to splatter your brains on the floor, Clarke," Walsh growled in Isaac's ear, "but for the mess some good folk would have to clean up."

"Cap? You want us to go after the kid?" someone asked her. Isaac craned his neck to see, but Walsh blocked his view.

"No. No. Dad," she said, "why are you fighting against me? Your own daughter?"

Isaac heard wheezing, and then Samson answered, "There are more people who are suffering besides us. The risk is necessary. Call off your attack dog, Delilah. He's putting Mr. Clarke in unnecessary discomfort."

"Chief Walsh, please get Mr. Clarke to his feet," she commanded.

Walsh prodded Isaac with the gun. "If you want, ma'am, I can use force to subdue the prisoner."

"Not now, Chief. Get him up."

Walsh did so, with roughness that Isaac continued to bear patiently, and spun him around to face forward. Another shove caused Isaac to stagger, and the meaty paw grabbed under his armpit none too gently. Thankfully, their journey came to a conclusion- -another fifteen minutes later, Isaac thought- -when they passed under the sign indicating they'd reached the flight deck. It was as they stepped into the deck that Ellie opened a hololink.

"Isaac!" she said. "Are you near a vidscreen? Do you _see_ this?"

Isaac came to a standstill, and after a quick glance to Cap, Walsh allowed it to happen. The entrance did open up into a flight lounge. There were several cushioned benches and bolted end tables inside an enclosed, windowed partition. Hanging over one of the windows, inside, was a vidscreen. Fifteen minutes had been enough time, he thought, as he saw his serious, gaunt face speaking to the camera as he'd recorded it a half-hour earlier. Through Ellie's link, he heard the audio.

"…Titan Station. Rhea has an object very important to me, and I will, I assure you, tear apart your precious station bolt by bolt to obtain it. Your best chance is to leave. Otherwise, you might get caught in the crossfire. Isaac Clarke, out."

The tail-end of the threat then. He'd spoken to Millicent Daniels, had some inspired 'you wanted me, here I come' bullshit in there that'd been his favorite part. Since it was an emergency frequency, it would continue to repeat as many times as necessary and no other news could be broadcast. Computer specialists on Rhea would be working furiously to cease the hack, and Isaac thought, grimly, it might be enough of a scare to get at least a _few _people off the station.

"Are you out of your mind?" Ellie asked. Then she seemed to realize his silence. "Isaac, what exactly are you doing?"

Isaac wanted the break between them clean, but that would not be possible now that he looked in her green and blue eyes. They'd become involved in such a manner that clean breakage was impossible: wreckage would be a more accurate word. Guilt seeped into his heart, cool and aching. "I'm being cast overboard. EarthGov's approved a search-and-destroy directive on me. I'm a danger to everyone here."

"What?" Her features contorted. "Who had _that_ brilliant fucking idea? Where are you? I'll go with you."

"I don't think that's a good idea. I'm leaving now, by orders of…" he caught the scowl on Delilah's fine features, "by orders of the captain. Good-bye, Ellie."

She said something, something he didn't catch as Walsh terminated the hololink- -actually deactivating the entire RIG system so that kinesis, stasis, _and _his health meter were nonfunctioning- -and guffawed. "She's a pretty thing. Didn't think she'd have a thing for nerds. Maybe a man with a gun'll fix her up nice."

"You disgust me," Samson spat from behind them. Isaac had never heard Samson so terse before. "You've proven you're a thug with a gun, so congratulations. You're the top bully on the playground."

Samson's insult seemed to catch Walsh on the chin. He blinked a few times and frowned, his whole goatee drooping down. "Sorry, Samson. Just that…"

"I don't want to hear your excuses," interrupted Samson primly. "Let's proceed. I don't wish to be in the presence of violence against a man who doesn't deserve any of this."

Delilah gave a go-ahead nod to her security detail, so they continued through the flight deck, past the many checkpoints, which had, of course, been cleared so no one would see Isaac's untimely departure from the ship. How long all of this took, Isaac was unsure, but in retrospect, it had been _enough _time for a kid pissed at his mother to take action. From behind him, he heard another hololink open.

"Samson, here." A third time they stopped. Isaac turned his body to the side to watch from the corner of his vision. He saw Kaassen's head over a dark-red suit, but he couldn't see the details. "What is it?"

"We're a go for deployment. All we need is Clarke," the major said.

"You are to deploy. I repeat, you are go to deploy. Mr. Clarke will catch up to you station-side," replied Samson. "Good luck, Major."

The hololink terminated, and at last they reached the docking bay where Isaac's shuttle had been prepared. Here, there was a flight crew, and their looks of astonishment as Isaac showed up gripped between two large men were telling. They whispered amongst themselves, some fingers pointing, hands covering mouth, as they went about preparing the bay for launching the shuttle. Walsh hustled Isaac into the cockpit and sat him at the controls, having released him of his manacles.

"Can't say it's been a pleasure," said Walsh. "Now get the fuck off my ship."

Isaac kept his gaze level. "It's not your ship."

The ramp was distended, and at that moment, both men heard the shriek. Walsh clomped out of the ship, and after a second of unclipping himself from the harness, Isaac followed. Delilah's face had gone grey, and Samson held his daughter close to his chest, stroking her back.

"There, there, dear," Samson cooed. "We'll get him back."

"What's happened?"

Isaac's question went ignored when Delilah's hololink opened to Rooster, who looked perturbed. "Ma'am, I hate to bother you with more bad news, but Rhea went dark. I'm unable to make contact with any of our agents on the ground 'cause of signal interference."

Isaac's stomach bottomed out. It was happening again. "Another Necromorph outbreak."

"Oh, my God," groaned Delilah, "oh, my God, my son's gone there. He's gone there!" She pushed from her father's embrace and reeled to Isaac. "Please. Please, will you go? Noah's...he's stowed away on the other shuttle!"

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**A/N: ** That...escalated quickly. Things will certainly pick up now that you've patiently waited for them, I promise. Expect the next chapter Oct. 6th. See you then!


	10. Return to Hell

**A/N:** Hello again, readers! Glad to see you're back and ready for a fresh chapter. This one is especially long. I hope you enjoy.

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**Chapter Ten: Return to Hell**

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"How do you know he's stowed away on the shuttle?" Isaac asked.

Delilah put her hand in front of her mouth, maybe to keep a sob in check, but lowered it when she answered. "I have Rooster keep an eye on the location of No-no's RIG. He told me that the signal was near Dock 2 and when the shuttle cleared for launch, it disappeared completely. It hasn't turned up in the ship since."

Walsh put his hand on her shoulder. "Ma'am, we can call the shuttle and have it turn around."

She shook her head. "We agreed that the Marker-killing team would go silent until arrival to avoid someone tracing the frequency back to the ship. As soon as the shuttle left _Retribution, _comms went offline, and due to the new mods, none of them can be reached via RIGlink." She grabbed Isaac's forearm in earnest. "Isaac, I'm sorry for asking this of you. I'm so sorry and I don't deserve to ask you for forgiveness. But my son…my son is my life. Can you understand that?"

"I can," Isaac told her. "I'll find him."

"Thank you." Her eyes were glassy and distracted. "Take this shuttle since it's ready to go. Is there anything you need?"

"Wait, hold on. You're releasing him?" Walsh asked. He was incredulous. "You let him off this ship, he'll fly off and never return."

Samson slid his glasses up his nose. "You don't know Isaac Clarke, Orne. He'll go to Rhea and he'll find Noah. Have some faith. I do." His features were serious when he turned to his daughter. "He'll need a plasma cutter. It won't be the one he left behind…there's no time to go and get it."

"Any one will do. I can modify it as I go along. Contact Rooster and have him make a general broadcast," Isaac suggested. When the captain turned aside to contact Rooster, Isaac had a thought. To Samson, he asked, "Any idea where the Marker-killing team was headed to dock?"

"Hm. We decided to attempt to infiltrate the government sector where the research facility is integrated as our first objective. However, with Rhea's comm blackout, Director Daniels may have put the station on lockdown or…"

"Or continued with the evacuation," Isaac said in the duration of the pause, "which would allow the team access. There's the possibility that the station's blackout is due to a Necromorph attack. If that's the case, all bets are off and we have no idea where the Marker team landed."

"That's an easy fix. We can program your shuttle's sensors to scan for the team's shuttle. You'll also have the frequency to their RIGs, so if scanning for their shuttle isn't possible, you can try to scan for their RIG signals," Samson said. "It's risky flying around in EarthGov space, but if you're lucky, you'll be overlooked in favor of the evacuation and the blackouts. I'll have Rooster upload the program to your shuttle's systems now. When you board, be sure to sync with the ship, so the Marker team's and Noah's RIG information is stored and programmed." He backed out of conversational range in order to concentrate on giving orders to Rooster.

Isaac turned back to Delilah. "What's the situation with the cutter?"

"Rooster did the broadcast like you asked. Almost immediately, Miss Langford linked with him," she said. She stood at a mulish Walsh's elbow, the corners of her mouth deep in a frown. "She said to make you wait until they arrived."

"What? _They_ said?"

At that second, the flight deck doors opened and through them, came Ellie and Greggs, who wore the modified sec-suits. Ellie's curves stood out in the skin-tight armor, and the red and black looked good on her as she ran up to the security detail with Greggs a footstep behind. Both panted like they'd sprinted the entire length of the ship.

"Thank God we caught you in time!" Ellie gasped. "We want to come with you."

His audiolink hissed static. "It is their choice to make," Nicole whispered. "You cannot choose for them."

Nicole was, obviously, right. Ellie and Greggs were adults; they could choose their own paths to tread and Isaac had no place to control them or _attempt_ to control them. The maturity in him, the wisdom he'd accumulated over the last living months of his life- -though three years were quite blurred- -disagreed. Ellie might be able to handle herself. Maybe Greggs, too. But because Isaac had set the precedent, having survived twice a Necromorph outbreak, they assumed they would survive as well. Isaac couldn't shake the feeling that if he brought them along, they would die and he'd spiral into self-loathing and insane guilt. There was only one way _that _scenario ended.

If Ellie died, he didn't believe he could bear it. Then there was feeling that he didn't believe he'd survive a third time.

"Isaac." Ellie's two-toned gaze pierced his skull to his quibbling thoughts. "You can't force us to stay behind. You need support and we're here to lend that to you. You can't tell us no."

She held up a plasma cutter with her off-hand; she held her own in the other. Isaac continued to probe her with his mind even as he accepted the cutter from her. He found no hesitation, no regret, just complete and utter faith. She would not be persuaded. To Greggs, Isaac said, "You don't have to do this."

His smile was boyish as he hefted the unfamiliar contact beam. "You're right. I don't. But _someone_ needs to make sure you two stay out of trouble."

"I can't guarantee you'll survive this," Isaac said.

Greggs shrugged. "I have faith."

"Isaac, Rooster's transferred the data to the shuttle computer," Samson interrupted. "Everything's green-light go."

"I'll drive!" Ellie said. She brushed Isaac as she sailed up the distended ramp, but abruptly stopped short to wave at the group. "Bye, everyone. Wish us luck!"

To Isaac's surprise, those gathered- -including Walsh and the captain- -waved farewell and called their well-wishes after her. Greggs was next, and he shook hands with Samson, some words were exchanged, and he, too, waved from the top of the ramp before disappearing into the shuttle. Isaac was last. He strode up the ramp, his stomach quivering, and turned to gesture a farewell to the others as he activated the ramp so Ellie could proceed with lift-off.

"Isaac!" Samson shouted over the roar of boosters even as everyone jogged toward the doors. He flung something that flashed silver, which Isaac caught one-handed as the ramp closed up. "I'll tell you when you return!"

Intrigued, Isaac brought up his hand to inspect the object he caught. He saw at once it was a distressed, silver medallion with SAINT CHRISTOPHER PROTECT US in bold print around the outer-edges of the medallion's flat side. The words circled around a bearded man with a walking staff and a young child on his shoulders. Rays of light poured outwards from the man and child. When he rolled the medallion over his fingers to check the back, his heart skipped a beat.

Engraved in neat script was _P. Clarke, husband 4/15/2459._

_What the fuck is this?_ was, quite frankly, his first thought. He rechecked the inscription, affirmed he hadn't misread the initials and words, and knew without question that this was his father's St. Christopher medallion. What had Samson been doing with it this whole time? Did Samson know where Isaac's father was? _Who _Isaac's father was? Why now? Why _now, _instead of when they met?

_I'll tell you when you return._ Bullshit.

"Isaac, get your ass up here, sync up, and strap in," Ellie told him over his audiolink. He was aware that the ship had already lifted off and exited _Retribution_'s docking bay. "You never know when it could get rough and tumble."

"All right." He looped the chain around his neck and tucked it under the synthetic fabric that covered his neck. The medallion sank under the armor to lay its cool weight against his heart. "I'm coming."

Questions about Poul Clarke's connections to Samson and _Sweet Retribution _would have to wait. A run-away fourteen year-old and a Grey Marker coupled with a Necromorph outbreak necessitated his immediate attention. He went bow-ward to the cockpit, where Ellie and Greggs had already strapped in and took his seat at systems analysis. His RIG synced with the ship as soon as he logged in and bleeped in acceptance of fresh data download.

"We're not receiving any comms shipside," Greggs said, "and there's only static on frequencies from Rhea Station. We're not close enough yet to assess the situation."

"That's the Marker fucking with us. It stops help from coming in and stops everyone else from getting out," Isaac replied, darkly. "If we're lucky, it's Daniels who has ordered comms to go on blackout, because then at least we're there before the shitstorm."

"Amigo, have you forgotten the beginning of the week? Daniels wants you in her clutches," Greggs said, his face shadowed from the dim lights of the interface. "The shitstorm has already hit, and we're going eye-center into it."

Ellie spoke over her shoulder to them. "I don't know what would be worse. Going in at the beginning of an outbreak or going in after it's already occurred."

"It's the same thing," Isaac answered. No matter when you showed up to a Necromorph party, you were guaranteed blood, guts, screams, and pants-shitting. "Let's focus on rejoining the team and chasing down Noah."

"Stupid kid," Ellie muttered, "why'd he pick _now_ of all times to run away from mum?"

They went silent- -a silence rife with sickening nerves and serious regrets, neither voiced- -and watched as the blinking lights to Rhea Station neared after an hour and nearer still after the second hour. Isaac noticed that there were distress signals scattered throughout Rhea's airspace, and he guessed it was the shuttles that had gotten out in enough time. Unfortunately, no one would be answering those calls until the Marker's signal went dead, which would be, if things went well (which they never did), in a few hours.

"We're coming in," Ellie said, breaking the heavy quiet. "Here we go."

Isaac tapped a few options on the system's holographic interface under his fingers. "Good. Nice and easy, Ellie. I'm scanning for the Marker team's shuttle. Put up your visors." They did so, and he switched to an open audio channel between their sec-suits. "Greggs, help keep an eye out."

He should've known it had been too easy. One second they'd been easing between the spires and towers, jagged and harsh teeth on the station, to continue scanning and the next…a deafening CRUNCH and the scream of metal as it tore. Then warning alarms blared in a cacophonic din, air shrieked, and a myriad of orange-yellow-red blinking lights…

Everything happened so quickly that when Isaac came to, face-planted on the controls, he had to spend a minute gathering his wits. His suit fed him air, so he was in vacuum. The interior lights had shut down. Darkness blanketed him, save for the crisp white sparks bursting from ripped wires. Briefly, Isaac struggled with his harness, got it released, and he crawled hand-over-fist to Greggs and Ellie, likewise thrown over their control panels and knocked senseless. Their RIGs glowed bright aqua; they'd taken no damage.

"Greggs? Ellie?" Their oxygen meters were falling. "You guys all right?"

A movement shifted the entire shuttle. Fuck. They teetered on the edge of…something…and when Isaac looked through the shattered windshield, he realized they had crashed into the side of an exceptionally tall building. Debris cascaded the airless area outside the shuttle. This time, the something rattled the shuttle enough to send Isaac flying into the forward dash to hang on. The rattling lasted another second- -and stopped. Before Isaac had a chance to breathe, a fleshy pink tentacle the actual size of the shuttle slithered over and around the nose.

Oh. Holy. Fuck.

If he'd a mind to, he could've reached to touch the muscle of that ropy piece of slime, traced with his fingers the blue veins under the flexing skin. As it was, he did not wish to when it retracted a moment later.

Nor did he wish to remain in a tin box, so he used the brief interlude to shake awake first Ellie then Greggs. Each came around, accepted Isaac's help in dispatching the harness buckles, and further used Isaac as support to escape the twisted wreck that was the shuttle. Too shaken up to even speak, Ellie and Greggs allowed Isaac to unceremoniously shove them through the broken windshield. They floated in a tangle of limbs and plasma cutters and contact beam as the tentacle flung the shuttle across the diameter of the station, by some miracle ignoring the puny, vulnerable humans. Isaac couldn't see where their shuttle landed, nor could he see where the tentacle furled away.

"The fuck…?" Greggs whispered through audio. "Did you see…?"

Isaac oriented and magnetically locked to the metal catwalk crossing the rooftop, bringing Greggs with him. Ellie had already clamped down and had hustled over to the roof access hatch. They were in free space with running oxygen meters, which was a very bad thing. He made sure Greggs was secure before clomping over to assist Ellie with the door.

"It's not opening for me," she said. "Think we could try hacking it?"

At a glance, he saw their predicament. "It's no use. There's no terminal to break into for a hacking. We'll have back track to where the shuttle crashed into the side of the building. Maybe we can get in there."

"Let's do it then. Greggs, you with us?"

Greggs, to Isaac's left, half-turned to them. He'd been facing away, as if trying to divine through mental messages the tentacle's existence. "Yep, all good."

"You're freaked out," Ellie said as they traversed the rooftop in single file. Isaac had taken point.

"Nah." A shrug in Greggs' words and a lie at that. Isaac didn't call him out on it- -the lie was bravery in the face of terror. "But, uh, do _all _Necromorphs grow to that size?"

"The Marker started sending signals two hours ago," Isaac replied. "It's had plenty of time to replicate and spread growth. Mutations can get pretty big, yeah."

He gazed out over Rhea Station. A giant glass dome in the middle-distance twinkled in the sunlight that Isaac, in an abstract memory, recognized or thought he knew…but the idea eluded him. Further out, he could see enormous vidscreens plastered with Director Daniels' face, her withered lips mouthing words, her look grim but determined, and he'd knowingly stepped into her lair. A handful of shuttles floated from between the shiny black mineral-stone used to construct the buildings and sped to safety outside the station's range, before he came to a standstill at the lip of the building's rooftop. The sheer wall plummeted hundreds of meters to other building tops, but Isaac could see a divot taken out of the meeting of two walls down about fifty or so meters.

"See there," he pointed, "that's our entrance. It looks like we're in luck. The emergency barriers must've malfunctioned. I don't see them shutting off the interior."

"No time like the present. Ladies first," Ellie said and demagnetized her boots.

Up she hovered, using the suit's stabilizers to orient over the edge toward the gaping wound in the building's side. Isaac followed, Greggs close behind, and a few seconds later, they maneuvered inside, where it was dark and a tangled mess of steel support beams and electrical wiring showed the disrupting force of the shuttle. Undamaged, through the matted nest of wires and metal, was an unlocked door. Their visors glowed a bright white light, instead of the aqua Isaac was used to, and picking out the form of their bodies was difficult with the dark colors.

"There we are," said Greggs. "Sweet, sweet oxygen, here I come."

"Once we're inside, move carefully. There are no safe havens inside the Marker's signal," Isaac warned, squeezing the grip of his plasma cutter. "Watch your step and listen carefully. I'll go first. You two stay a few steps behind."

Ellie and Greggs murmured their assent, and they separated to the side to let Isaac to the door. As he tapped the door's holographic knob, his heart was in his throat and his stomach had decidedly sunk to his knees. Fear had snuck up his spine, a groping cold hand with spindle-like nails. If I wasn't batshit insane before, Isaac thought as the door opened into a poorly lit corridor, I will be after this.

They had entered an apartment complex and with a hiss, their suits automatically refilled the oxygen as pressure returned to the environment. Locked doors lined the hall, and as usual with Marker-affected minds, the incomprehensible scrawls of an alien language in chalk- -of anything, the usage of chalk floored him as it was used almost exclusively among engineers and maintenance- -in patterns, concentric circles or in neat, perfectly aligned little paragraphs. Along the floor were battery powered candles, eerily lit and throwing shifting shadows into darkened corners. Debris cluttered the floor as well, and Isaac saw to the side a cluster of luggage, and a couple green plastic bins.

"Fuck _me_," whispered Greggs and disengaged his visor. Ellie and Isaac followed suit. Greggs' eyes were wide with wonderment as he crouched over the candles. "Who set up the candles?"

"People consumed by the madness," Isaac said and stomped apart the two bins, the brittle plastic flying apart under his weighted foot with a loud crack. A couple thousand's worth of credits tumbled out. Handing them to Greggs and Ellie, he said, "If you find credit chips, pick 'em up. We can use those at stores for materials and gear."

"What's our plan, then?" Ellie asked as she tucked away the credits. Her voice was unusually low. "I don't think it's a good idea to be wandering around without some idea of what we're doing or where we're going. The shuttle had all of our scanning equipment, so we can't even do that."

"We already know we have to head toward government sector and the Marker research lab. The Marker team will be going there already," replied Isaac. "Let's see if we can't link with Noah or one of the others on the team to assess the situation. I'm concerned Noah integrated a parasite onto his RIG to avoid contact with his mom."

"Parasite?"

"I'll explain later. Let's see if this works," he told her. "I'll contact Noah, you two try to raise someone on the Marker team while I contact Noah."

Ellie and Greggs nodded, and Isaac didn't waste time queuing up a hololink and 'dialing' Noah's RIG identification code. On the other end was the snow of static. It flicked to Noah's face then spasmodically flickered back and forth a few times, indecisive, until it stayed on Noah, his skin transparent with paleness. Isaac was instantly sympathetic; the kid looked the worse for wear, a deep cut spilled blood out from his temple over the side of his face and his eyes were puffy, swollen and bruised.

"I-Isaac? That really you?" Noah whispered. Bottom lip trembled. "I m-messed up, didn't I?"

"Noah, it's all right. I'm here to take you home," said Isaac. "Can you move? Can you see where you are?"

"M-mom's gonna kill me. I should've…I should've listened to her…"

The kid suffered from shock and didn't look like he'd last long. "Look, your mom loves you and wants to forgive you and wants you home. But you're in a tight spot, Noah, so you have to help me," Isaac told him as patiently as he could manage. "Your coordinates aren't coming through. Give me a landmark you remember seeing or a name or just…describe your surroundings."

In the background, Isaac heard the scratch of a sharp blade against metal, the screaming roar of a Necromorph as it scented fresh blood. Noah jumped around, his gaze off-screen, and scrambled back into a dark place that looked like a maintenance access duct. Steam obscured anything else that might give away Noah's position.

"What-what do I do? I think it…I think it knows I'm here," Noah said in a voice so quiet Isaac had to strain to hear him.

"Noah! _What do you remember_?"

Isaac's sharp tone seemed to snap Noah back. "I remember a…a red circle and…bells…" A terrifying crash startled Noah. "_Shit! It's coming!_"

The hololink snapped off, aggravatingly, before Isaac could gather further information. He turned to the others, who waited for him patiently. The expressions on their faces showed they'd heard the last bit of Noah's link.

"Any of that mean anything to you?"

"On Rhea?" Greggs thought hard for a moment. "He could mean the Japanese Commons. The old national flag, the one before Earth Government, is pretty prominent. It's got a…large, solid red circle on a field of white. Why?"

"His coordinates didn't come through on my RIG," replied Isaac. "Something must've been scrambling his position."

"That's odd, isn't it? If you connected over hololink, your RIG should be able to determine the coordinates of his signal." Greggs shook his head. "Here, I'm sending you the coordinates to the Commons. In case we get separated, we know where to meet up." He activated his RIG's databank and sent the Japanese Commons coordinates to both Isaac and Ellie.

"You sure that's the place? Bells," Ellie murmured. "Sounds like a tra-"

A scream cut off Ellie's comment. It was a resonating, ear-splitting wail that preceded what was sure to be a Necromorph attack. They'd lingered too long here. "Engage your visors and ready your weapons," Isaac said. He breathed deeply and brought to attention his weapon. "Remember, shoot the limbs off and stasis the fast-moving ones."

He had enough time to say just that. From a door burst a pink fleshy creature, limbs gangling and arced outwards, tapering into blades that cut through metal like butter. He categorized the type of Necromorph as a run-of-the-mill slasher. The body of it paused in the hallway, as if orienting itself, the head and glowing eyes jerked to the three living humans and locked on. After a couple of tentative steps, the slasher charged, shrieking as it lumbered into a sprint. Isaac coolly dispatched a leg and an arm then used kinesis to prepare a blade to shoot.

Silence. Over audio, Greggs snorted, dropping his contact beam to his waist, "Heh. That wasn't so-"

"RRAAAAAUGH!"

He spoke too soon. A half-a-dozen more poured out of the opening. The noise was deafening as the slashers gained their footing and sprinted the corridor like freakish pairs of running scissors. They were far enough away that Isaac had plenty of time to line his shot carefully, and the immense pressure behind the blade from the kinesis punched the severed blade through two slashers in a row, throwing them back and staggering the crowd behind them.

Ellie got into the spirit and fired off a series of quick rounds, which maimed two or three enough for Isaac to dismember in succession, and Greggs finished off the group with a couple shots with the contact beam. Isaac, without speaking, moved forward, glancing around corners to try and find an elevator. No other slashers burst at them, though he expected it any moment. He hadn't forgotten the tense edge he felt, the inability to relax even a millisecond. The elevator was further along in the hall, past the piles of loose limbs, blood splashes, twisted bodies, and guttering candles. No problems as the doors opened for him and in went Isaac, Ellie, and Greggs.

Some advertisements showed they were currently in Symphony Apartments, Level 60. On a digital screen, a map indicated where they were currently inside the apartments, as well as what wing they were in (Northeast). Another advertisement, in friendly large script, announced that Rhea was home to the Sol-famous Arboretum, a flourishing paradise of rare vegetation and aviary. Oh, _that's _right. Why he hadn't remembered it when he stepped off the gunship onto Rhea, he wasn't sure, but before the incident on the _Ishimura, _he and Nicole had planned to spend some vacation time there.

And as if the echoed memory of her roused the Marker, he focused back on the present.

"Did either of you raise the Marker team?" Isaac asked. He'd forgotten under the anxiety of not knowing where the hell Noah was. "We need some good news."

Ellie snorted. "Yeah, that'd be nice. The Marker team's signals _are _on Rhea, but there's too much interference. We couldn't get a steady link going."

"Fabulous." Isaac turned toward the doctor. "Greggs, you all right?"

"You know, I'm surprised you didn't hear me screaming behind my helmet," he said. "Those things…those are all over the station?"

"And worse," replied Isaac. "Some of 'em spit gobs of acid. Others shoot missiles and some others are fat and spawn these little swarm-things if you hit their stomachs."

Greggs sighed. "Why'd I sign up for this?"

"Why _did _you sign up?" Isaac asked. "I get Ellie-"

"Hey." Ellie cuffed him on the shoulder.

"-but why _you_?"

Other the audio, Greggs went quiet. Finally, he said, "I suppose because I wanted to make sure you came out the other side, Clarke."

"Here I was hoping that I could make sure you two did the same," Isaac murmured. Louder, he said, "Our priority is to get to the Japanese Commons. We'll get situated on the ground floor and try and make our way there."

"Do you think Noah will even be there when we arrive?" Ellie asked. She reached out to put her hand on his shoulder. "Seems like a shot in the dark."

"It's the only starting point we have. Maybe he left a clue or a message behind that we can follow to his next location…or maybe he's holed up, frightened, alone but unharmed." The elevators opened, but they were not on the ground floor, but on Level 48. Isaac glanced again at the map inside the elevator, using his finger to trace and memorize an alternate route. "Looks like we have to find another way down. Should be another elevator on the other side."

The three stepped out of the cocoon and relative safety that was the elevator car in the dimly lit apartment hall. Candles and inscriptions everywhere. More luggage and plastic bins scattered the floor and Isaac treated those to a stomp, finding some more credits and a couple stasis modules. Once under way, Isaac kept on point, Ellie and Greggs behind him.

Being in the center of a third Necromorph attack wasn't as jarring as he thought it would be. His main concern was keeping Ellie and Greggs sane and fighting, and joining the Marker team after, of course, saving Noah from certain death. Fear was simmering under the surface of his rationality, but simmering was better than boiling him alive. He certainly did not hold the same level of terror and dread that had run rampant through him on the _Ishimura, _which seemed like a lifetime ago. No, the _Ishimura _had been…soul-shattering. 'Terror' wasn't autonomous enough of a word to encompass the full nauseating horror that first time.

Isaac's thoughts stopped when he came to the end of the hall. The halls to each wing joined together in the center of the apartment building. Up ahead was a wide open community area, with benches and tucked in an alcove, a Store. Glass floors and ceilings revealed the floor above and the floor below, and some galleria windows opened up the area to a view of the rest of the station to the right and left at the end of shorter hallways that led to more apartments. Below them, he saw a couple mauled and torn to pieces- -their cries and the roar of the slasher muted- -literally right under their feet. Smears of blood painted the glass in great splashes and streaks, and helpless to assist, Isaac opted to continue on.

"Uh-oh." Ellie grabbed his arm and tugged him into the safety of the hall. "Look there."

Isaac traced the line of her pointed finger out of one of the windows to the side. Hovering like a bird of prey outside was a Rhea Station Security gunship. It swept side to side, spotlights glaring through the glass, and forcing them to slink further into the darkened hall.

"It's so stupid that they're trying to find you when the entire station is falling apart at the seams," Ellie murmured. "I can't stand that they ignore these dying people."

"Luckily for us, the Necromorphs don't ignore them," Isaac said. "Our job got a lot harder."

* * *

**A/N**: That being said, the next chapter will be published Oct. 13th. I'm not normally one to ask, but I've had a really, really horrible week. If you could please let me know how I'm doing with this story, it would mean the world to me and I'll be sure to answer any questions you have. :).


	11. En Route

**A/N: **Welcome back, dear readers and lurkers! Thank you for all your wonderful support. You helped me get through a rough spot in life, and you are to be commended. So, without further adieu, please enjoy the next chapter.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: En Route**

* * *

After a pulse-pounding thirty seconds, the hovering gunship slid away, taking the blaring searchlights with it. It was when Isaac relaxed did he realize he'd tensed up across his shoulders, his grip tight on the plasma cutter.

"I think we're good," he said over their shared audiolink. "Keep close."

He checked the open community area, with open eyes and ears, and hustled across the glass floors. Screams filtered through some vents as he made the hallway on the other side, and some people who'd stayed behind, too afraid to leave their apartments, shouted warnings as Isaac's group passed by.

"Whoa, wait up," said Greggs. Isaac halted and turned to the doctor, who'd stopped at one such door, the shingles to his visor peeling back and disappearing. "Shouldn't we…you know…get these people out?"

Isaac relaxed his stance. Ellie disengaged her helmet and put a hand on Greggs' forearm. She was compassionate, but firm. "It would be nice if we could, but they are too afraid. We wouldn't be able to keep them alive."

"She's right. Best we can do is kill off the Marker as quickly as we can," Isaac said. "It's not fair that we should leave people behind, but it's that, or _we _die too."

Greggs frowned, the sour expression odd on his normally humored features. "Yeah, I see what you mean. It's like triage. Save the ones you can…shelf the rest."

Triage…? Isaac was familiar with medical lingo from conversations with Nicole, and she'd used that term when a group of miners had an accident with some nitrogen trichloride. She even had told him she'd been unsure of the process until an older, more experienced doctor had reviewed it with her. He knew the term meant to separate the wounded into three categories- -again, thanks to Nicole- -but so rarely did triage occur in civilian medicine, it was almost exclusively associated with the military. Greggs spoke as though intimately familiar with triage and in order for him to be so familiar, he would've had to been involved in the military. Right?

Or was that grasping at straws?

"We should keep moving," he said. "The elevators are up ahead."

Together as a unit they moved to the elevators. He heard the breathing first- -a sucking of air through a hole at a low decibel, almost a prolonged huffing, and the strain of a large object putting pressure against a smaller opening. Around the corner at the end of the hall was where a grouping of cysts had sprouted like some puss-filled zits on the face of the building's floor.

"Christ, that shit's weird," murmured Greggs. "What are they?"

Isaac answered as he used kinesis to drag a dead body through the field of mutated growths. "Cysts. They shoot out explosive pods. Just watch."

As usual, when the cysts sensed the body, they squeezed out their yellow blobs, which exploded on impact once they struck the floor and killed the cysts in the process. The whole grouping shrieked and spewed out vomit-like fluid as the sacs went limp and dead.

Isaac could hear Ellie's disgust over the audio. "Oh, gross."

"The way's clear." Isaac led the way through the small area, careful to avoid stepping in the cysts' remains. The elevator was functional.

As soon as he called the car, the nerve behind his eye throbbed. A Necromorph must be in the elevator; he'd been ambushed enough times in and around elevators for him to instinctively know it.

"Shit. Get back!" Ellie and Greggs were a couple steps behind him, and when he spun, he shoved them further away. "Get back!"

They complied in the nick of time. Isaac wheeled around to the elevator doors; they parted and waiting for him was a puker, dark skin matte black, charred, and skin torn from chest to navel to show acid-eaten guts, head bald. It reared back. Gapping jaws widened, yellowish-green drool dripping, and in the interval of time it took to work up the ball of acid, Isaac hit it with stasis and clipped off both arms, a leg, and the head. The stasis remained for another couple of seconds, and when it subsided, the puker's body fell to pieces. Acid burst from its body from the impact and from Isaac's surgery, sizzling on the glass floor.

Isaac stood over it for another second, finger on the trigger, waiting for life, before waving Ellie and Greggs over. Greggs tiptoed around the puker, but Ellie kicked it in its meaty torso, her foot making a hollow _thunk_ and a squish, presumably to remove it from blocking the elevator doors.

"Good riddance," she said as she stepped into the elevator car. She waited for Isaac to enter before activating the down button. The electricity powering the car hummed in the silence.

"A puker," said Isaac to them, though they hadn't asked. "I told you about them before. They spew acid at you that'll eat away at your sec-suit. Don't let them get near you."

When the power outage occurred, they'd passed the twenty-first floor. A flickering of the lights was all the warning they got, before the power went completely out, throwing them into darkness. The car stopped dead. A couple seconds then a minute crawled by. Their sec-suit visors lit the confining space of the elevator car. It was a power outage. Give it time. Power would return soon. But Isaac's stomach had a lead weight in it. Then something shook either the entire building or the elevator car.

"What the hell?" Ellie said, bracing herself against the wall. Their visor lights flicked back and forth as they looked around. "Don't tell me…"

"Get us out of here!" Greggs shouted. "Get us out!"

There was another shake, and this time, with the whine of strained metal. It was enough to knock Isaac off balance into Greggs and both of them slammed to the side. He grunted, heard Greggs' surprised yell. The contact beam dug into Isaac's back, painfully, and as he rolled onto his elbow to free Greggs, he wondered if they were going to fall to their deaths. To the side, Ellie's fingers flew over the manual pad at the doors. As per emergency protocol, the elevator stopped at the next floor and opened the doors. Metal had kept up a constant, sheer whine.

All three of them spilled out, one on top of another, as the elevator's track system powered down. The car dropped from sight, down the shaft, before the call doors snapped shut and an orange warning hologram blinked on. Slowly, the three of them gained their feet and picked up their weapons. Isaac's heart had rammed into his throat, and he leaned heavily on an apartment door to calm himself.

"That was some quick thinking, Ellie," said Greggs, sounding weak. "Thanks."

Ellie waved a dismissive hand. "Don't thank me yet. We haven't even gotten out of this stupid building yet."

"Looks like we're about to," Isaac said. Further down the darkened, cluttered hall, he noticed a large, round external door with a white label over it. Cracked vidscreens flashed with Daniels' talking head toward the middle, and he saw that the hall was wider and taller than the rest. It seemed to be a main thoroughfare. "Rhea's got bridged walkways."

"I hadn't noticed them from the roof." Ellie stepped around to face the same direction as Isaac. Greggs followed suit as Ellie continued. "Are we changing plans, then? Nix the ground floor and the tram for the bridges?"

"What do you think, Greggs?" asked Isaac. "You've been around Rhea before. Any ideas?"

Greggs shifted his weight. "Well, I can't say. Everything here is pretty fucked up. We could get to the ground level, but then the tram might be offline. The tram would definitely be faster _if _we knew for certain it was functional. But based on our luck so far, we'd probably be better off hoofing it." He shrugged. "The walkways don't rely on power and are much easier to access than the tram. I can't even give you an estimate of time from here to the Commons."

Ellie faced Isaac. "We should take the pathway that looks most direct. There isn't anyway to know for sure which is faster with the station in this condition."

"Sounds good," Isaac said. "I'll take the lead. You both stay a few feet behind and cover me. If I tell you to wait, _wait._ Got it?"

Both assented. Isaac began picking a path through the debris, mostly cloth luggage bags, and he used kinesis to blow apart some green bins hiding beneath the haphazardly stacked luggage. A few more credit chips were to be had, so he tucked them into a pocket and continued forward. Over the vidscreen's sound system, Daniels reassured the citizens of Rhea that "there is no attack on them, and that the threat posed by Isaac Clarke has been handled and contained". Yeah, right. There was nothing handled or contained about the murderous horde of undead creatures wreaking havoc across the entire station.

Nothing burst out at him from vents as he always expected, and the lock on the external door screwed a rotation before unlocking and allowing the door to spread apart. He hesitated on the threshold. The walkways here were made from the black mineral mined from Rhea's core, with windows showing the vista of Rhea Station flanking either side of the moderately broad walkway. A low, fence-like barrier divided the walk into 'going' and 'coming' lanes, with enough room for benches, trashcans, potted plants, and kiosks to dot the median.

Emergency lighting had been activated, so the entire walkway was cast into deep, ominous shadows. Regardless of the shadows, he could track the corruption that had spread into the walkway, a spongy, fleshy organism that seemed to Isaac like cancerous lung tissue. It stank and oozed fluid, and there was nothing more he wanted to do than burn it from the hold it had on the walls and floor. The walkway itself seemed, for the most part clear and free, except for a few unlucky souls- -bodies tossed about- -and scattered pieces of luggage. It all seemed exceptionally quiet. His gut clenched without reason. The pang in his eye seemed to agree. Something big was coming.

"Ah! Look there! A map," Greggs said beside Isaac, gesturing to a holographic image near the center of the walk. "We can get an idea of where we are and how far to the Japanese Commons we are."

He started forward, but Isaac put up an arm to block him. "Wait. I've got a bad feeling about this. Ellie, go stand over in that corner under the archway, Greggs take the opposite. When the time comes, shoot at the yellow."

"Isaac," Ellie said, "what're you-"

He faced her through the visor, wishing he could taste her lips if for a brief moment. "Trust me. And don't forget. Shoot at the yellow."

They went without asking him any further questions. When they seemed settled in, weapons hoisted, Isaac breathed through the sickening anxiety threaded in his stomach. Sure he'd faced brutes before, tripods, and a hive mind, but he'd always gotten knocked around a bit first. Steadily, he inched forward along the walkway to the map. His heart thundered behind his ribs. Maybe he'd been paranoid. Maybe there wasn't any danger and he'd imagined things. Closer and closer he came to the map kiosk deeper into the walkway.

Then he'd taken one step too many as a massive body pummeled a metal barrier. He couldn't see it, but he could _hear_ the damn thing. Twice, the sound resonated through the walkway's corridor, before metal was torn apart and a short roar trumpeted through the enclosed walls and shuddered up Isaac's back. A brute, if his ear for the Necromorph roar was accurate. It came charging from the shadowed dim end of the walkway, sending benches, potted plants, trashcans and kiosks flying through the air. He watched it come, footfalls thudding hard enough on the floor that it shook the entire walk, and didn't wait to stasis it. As usual, the meat at the shoulder blades was an infected yellow discoloration, indicating the weak spot, and that was what he aimed for.

He managed a couple rapid shots, but because his plasma cutter wasn't amped on power nodes, he had to turn tail and run to put some more distance between himself and the creature as the stasis wore off. Another roar, more ground-shaking footfalls, as the brute charged. Isaac had placed Ellie and Greggs under an arch that had about four feet of wall distended out; in the corners flanking the walkway, they waited. As soon as the brute galloped under the arch, he again hit it with stasis. Greggs had already charged the contact beam; he aimed and released the superheated blast of kinetic energy, nailing the brute right between the shoulder blades.

One of the arms flew off, but that did not stop it, and as the stasis slowly wore off, his cutter shots, combined with Ellie's, amputated the second arm. Down went the bastard in a disgusting heap of brunt-black fat limbs and viscous fluids. An object popped out of its body. In the silence that followed, no one moved. But when Ellie shuffled forward a couple steps, a chorus of shrieks ripped through the air. Sounded like a pack.

Isaac reloaded the plasma cutter with a fresh cartridge. "Don't get squeamish on me, guys. Greggs, you use stasis on them. Ellie and I'll take care of the rest."

They were either too stunned or too afraid to answer him. He stood his ground as the bait, blood throbbing in his veins, sweat trickling down his back, as the toddler-sized Necromorphs with overly large claws rushed in a wave towards him. Their concentration was on him, and him alone. Greggs shot stasis towards the middle, enveloping most of them in the blue energy, and as Isaac took out the few free from stasis, Ellie dispatched the static ones with terrifying accuracy. More robust roars radiated the air.

"There's no end to them!" Greggs said over the audiolink.

"Be patient. Let them come to us." Isaac grabbed a trashcan from the median with kinesis. "Slow and steady."

More slashers dashed towards him. He knocked back the first two with the trashcan and felled three more. Kinesis again to catch and send flying a blade that pinned one to the wall. Rinse. Repeat. Ellie did the same, and within a minute, the slashers were still and limp, alternately hanging from a wall or pinned on the ground. Had they gotten every Necromorph? He strained his eyes to see down the walkway, but in the direction the Necromorphs had come, darkness closed off the end of the tunnel. Something buzzed in his brain, a little warning that they weren't done yet. Ellie had turned toward him, plasma cutter raised triumphantly, but over the audio, he heard a gasp of horror.

"Shit! Isaac-!" was as much as he heard before sudden impact pounded him.

An explosion of agony. Lights out. He didn't know how much time had passed when he woke, but he felt like it was an eternity as the pain raged in his entire body. The breath had been knocked from him; he gasped, his lungs rasping for oxygen. Breathing hurt his ribcage. Something was wrong, something was wrong, he couldn't catch his breath. Vaguely, he hauled his ass off the floor, because _fuck all_ if he would allow himself to die on his back, and tried to shake the dizziness.

Below his hands and knees, the floor rattled violently. Another brute? A quick glance to the side confirmed his guess. Greggs and Ellie danced around, having used stasis on the behemoth Necromorph, sniping with the contact beam and cutter. Isaac had been knocked half across the length of the walk. Forceful screams swung his attention to six more slashers staggering toward him, unable to resist the fresh blood, having found entry via the brute-sized hole from what used to be the door to the walkway.

Heaving for air, ribs searing with pain, he surged to his feet. His keen eye located a few loose batons leaning forgotten against the side of kiosk, lights glowing on the tops, the ends fearfully sharp. Kinesis snatched one and fired it, leaving a red stream of light in the air behind it. Another, another, another, and he ran out of batons to shoot, so he snipped the rest of the limbs off with the plasma cutter. No more attempted to sprint to him; the slashers remained in a bloody mess of flesh and chopped limbs. When he checked on Ellie and Greggs, they'd killed the brute and were currently jogging toward him.

He pressed a hand to where the pain radiated with hot, crackling lines of electricity, and he continued to gulp for air. Too dizzy. The plasma cutter clattered to the floor. Then his legs gelatinized, and he went hard to his hand and knees. His visor separated automatically.

"Isaac, God, we thought we lost you!" Ellie said. Both disengaged their visors as they came up to him. "That thing smacked you a good one."

"Shit. His RIG is yellow-orange. He's not in good shape," said Greggs. "Help him to his feet. I have a med-pack…we need to get it into his RIG."

Isaac waved Ellie away. "Get…the…items," he gasped. "Don't…leave…them."

"Don't worry about that," she told him. She knelt beside him to loop his arm across her shoulders. Greggs flanked him on the other side. "On three. One…two…three."

Together Ellie and Greggs hoisted Isaac to his feet. He hissed as the pain tripled in size and intensity, but gamely limped between them to an intact bench, where he sat and leaned his forearms on his thighs. His breath would not catch up to him. Greggs yanked out a med-pack from one of the pockets in his sec-suits, but Isaac saw it was a small one. Didn't matter. Even slight relief would be welcome.

Ellie balked. "You can't expect to-"

"I know it's a small one, but it'll have to do until we get something bigger. You go get whatever came out of those things," Greggs told Ellie. "We may need it."

Ellie nodded, grimly, and jogged off to do as Greggs bid. Greggs waited until she was well away before he stepped around Isaac, who heard the tearing of a seal and the slight tap as plastic made contact with metal- -the mouth of the med-pack connecting to the duct in Isaac's RIG located near the base of his neck. His RIG sighed, sucking the gel into the system, and after a second or three, Isaac felt an uncomfortable tingling as the RIG's AutoMed applied the gel to his spinal cord. A cooling sensation spread from his back, the ragged pain dulled under it in sweet, sweet relief.

"Holy shit," Greggs muttered, "never saw _that_ happen before."

Isaac's breathing slowed, steadied, and he no longer hurt when his ribs expanded with his lungs. His dizziness subsided, too. Tentatively, he sat up, rubbing his side where moments ago, he'd felt the most pain. He looked up at Greggs. "My side is better, but I can tell there's some soreness leftover."

"Your color's back up," said Greggs, and settled a hand on Isaac's back. "Hold steady, I'm taking your temperature and pulse."

"You've got all the medical apps programmed into your RIG?" Nicole's RIG had been specially programmed to monitor vital information on RIG systems, and he assumed Greggs had the same sort of set-up on his own RIG.

"Yeah." Pause. Then, "Your pulse and temperature's good. And your ribs seem better," Greggs added. "I don't know how you survived that hit."

"Luck."

Ellie had gathered the dropped items and had returned near enough to hear the exchange between them. "Luck my ass. It's a damned miracle. Are you feeling better?"

Abstractly, Isaac nodded and rubbed his fingers over the St. Christopher medallion that raised a comforting bump under his sec-suit. Yeah. Miracle. She handed him two semiconductors, which he accepted and glanced over: one bronze and one ruby, together worth a hefty sum of credits. Where the brutes came across semiconductors, he didn't know, but was grateful for. He slipped them in the pocket to keep the credits company then he stood, stretched out some kinks, and gazed at Ellie and Greggs.

"We should get moving."

Ellie's face screwed up. "Are you joking? You need to rest here until we find another med-pack. Your health meter is…" She trailed off when she craned her neck to view over his shoulder. "What…? How's this meter aqua from one lousy med-pack?"

"Heh, heh," Greggs chuckled, affably, "Isaac's RIG had some analgesic already dispensed by the AutoMed function. I just topped it off."

She didn't look like she believed him, but Isaac smiled at her. "I'm fine, really. You needn't worry."

"All right. If you say so," she said and engaged her visor. "We have to pick up the pace. Noah's not going to last long, wherever he is. There's another map kiosk up ahead. I'll check it out."

Before Isaac could consent, she brushed passed and strode to the holographic kiosk in front of the destroyed door and a little beyond. It had somehow survived the Necromorph attack. Once she was distant enough, Isaac exchanged a meaningful look with Greggs.

"I super-healed, didn't I?" he asked. Greggs nodded, brows knitted. "You lied to her for me. Thanks."

Greggs sighed. "You didn't want her to know about your healing. I keep my promises." He glanced over his shoulder to locate Ellie. She stood examining the map, yet he continued sotto voce, "Incidentally, your ribs _were_ broken. Damn near all of them. But thanks to your healing ability and the analgesic, you seemed to be ignoring most of the damage."

"Is that good or bad? Last time it took thirty-six hours to heal, maybe more."

"Look," Greggs saw Ellie wave them over, and he waved back, "I don't know. Could be that your healing speeds up in the presence of a Marker's signal. We can't know anything for sure. We can only keep an eye on it and document it if necessary."

"Great."

They engaged their visors and jogged over to meet up with Ellie. She pointed at the holographic map excitedly as she spoke. "We're not too far from the Japanese Commons! We have to cross these two bridged walkways. Then a maintenance duct will lead us right to it."

"That's _if _we're not constantly attacked by Necromorphs _or _have to circumvent dysfunctional doors," Isaac said. He checked his plasma cutter's counter. "We can only hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. Well, let's hit it."

In keeping with their usual formation, Isaac led the other two through the burst-open door into the next walk. Same corruption had seeped into the passage, same clutter, same dead bodies. No Necromorphs attacked, however, and the small group spent several precious minutes at a store exchanging the semiconductors for credits and purchasing power nodes. A bench was folded up next to the store, so Isaac upgraded both his and Ellie's plasma cutters, as well as Greggs' contact beam. He also purchased stasis packs for Ellie and Greggs to keep. Once they were properly outfitted, they continued.

They had seen a smattering of corpses throughout their short travel, but on the third walkway, also open to them from a ripped apart door, the chaos and murder the Marker caused was much more prolific. Isaac surmised, as he scanned the crowded area, that the people on this walkway had been trapped between two locked doors and were massacred. Pools of blood, blood trails, limbs, guts, dismembered bodies, the litter of lives destroyed coated the walkway, permeated the air with the stink of pungent death. The corruption was worse here, and as they mucked onwards, the absorption of the bodies into the mucinous alien organism was all the more apparent. Here had been where the Necromorphs had come from, the charging brutes freeing them from their confines.

As Ellie had indicated, there was a maintenance elevator on this walkway, which with a quick hack, Isaac managed to get back online, and soon they traveled upwards to a maintenance level. It was then his RIG dinged quietly and showed one text message. He accepted.

The message was from Noah, short and slightly puzzling: _Alive. In sec ofc? NSW._

"Here's something at least," Issac said. "Noah's alive in a security office. What's 'N-S-W'?"

Greggs replied immediately. "Not sure where. He must want to keep quiet if he's not sending a holo- or audio-link. Are his coordinates still scrambled?"

"Yeah. I'm guessing his RIG must've gotten damaged." Isaac accessed the holographic keyboard function on his RIG. It showed up about twenty centimeters in length and outlined the keys with bright blue light. The keyboard needed a flat surface to properly record the typing, so he used the smooth wall of the elevator to type out the message. He sent it, feeling helpless and angry at his helplessness. "I wish I could send him something better than a useless message."

"Like your plasma cutter?" Ellie said. "I know what you mean."

Greggs patted Isaac's shoulder. "The fact you're actively looking for him and thinking of him helps. It's all psychological at this point. Encouragement and support will give him hope, which will help him survive."

"You think the Marker team is having any better success?" Isaac asked.

"If you thought the captain was a hardass, the Major was the one who trained her," Greggs said. "Failure's not an option. Hell," he chuckled, "it's not even in his lexicon."

They arrived into a narrow maintenance corridor. Another grouping of cysts had sprouted, so using the left-behind tools and toolboxes they triggered the cysts into exploding their pods. The waypoint led them to the back of another corridor, where a maintenance duct would bring them into the Japanese Commons. Isaac saw the universal symbols for engineers on the holographic interface of the hatch, but noticed neat lines of Japanese script- -kanji, if memory served- -behind the holograph. Good to know they were in the right place. He accessed the hatch and hauled himself into the confining duct to army crawl through the cords, wires, and other innards of the station.

Sheet metal flexed under him as he moved, and he heard Ellie and Greggs scuffling along behind him, similarly flexing the metal underneath them. Several meters later, he came to another hatch, which he opened. Before exiting, he checked to make sure the room was clear then he flipped to his back and expertly levered himself out of the duct. He stepped aside to clear room for Greggs, who awkwardly fell out to the floor, knocking a side table into the wall, and Ellie, who was more graceful in exiting the duct.

The room had shelves against the walls with various supplies, and the door opened into the Japanese Commons.

"We're here," Isaac said, taking a hesitant footstep into the Commons and staring into the gloom. The Commons was like a shopping concourse in that it was open upwards and lengthwise. Several small garden spots featuring miniature trees with stone bases were lit with spotlights. Small old-fashioned bridges arched over a trench, where he could hear the trickle of water generating. Japanese restaurants and other stores lined the Commons. "I've never seen a place look like this before."

Ellie, to his side, pointed. "Check that out!"

The line of her point ended at an enormous banner hanging from the top of an odd-looking building with tiers, with steps like ribbons leading from the door to the main area. The banner was white with a solid red circle in the center. Over the intercoms, the chime of bells interrupted the quiet, undisturbed air. As Isaac continued to listen, he recognized the melody of the chimes.

_Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder…_

Pain pinched behind his eye.

* * *

**A/N: **I hope you enjoyed! I'm not a very proficient action writer, but I try. The next chapter will be posted on 10/19/12. See you then!

_Edit 10/13/12. Duly noted, Mr. Eclipse._


	12. Japanese Commons

**A/N:** Welcome back, dear readers and lurkers! I hope your week has been productive and successful. Please enjoy this next installment.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Japanese Commons**

* * *

"I suddenly got a chill," Ellie said from beside Isaac. "Something in here feels…" She shrugged to show she wasn't sure what she meant.

"_Off_," supplied Greggs. He stood on Isaac's other side. "Yeah, I've got that vibe, too. What's our move?"

Over the intercoms, the lackadaisical tune of the old nursery rhyme continued to play with the sweet chime of bells. Isaac squinted, trying to see…anything, honestly, in the vaulted emptiness of the Commons, and it was as if they were being watched from the thick shadows. _Something_ watched with animalistic intelligence and his skin crawled under it. The pain pulsed behind Isaac's eye as a feeling of dread poured ice into his veins, stirred up nausea in a sickening wave.

"Isaac?" Greggs touched Isaac's shoulder. "What do you want to do? Isaac?"

Leave and never come back. He couldn't explain the urge- -so sudden and intense it was like it had been imprinted in the face of his feelings. There was a sensation, a real, physical sensation of being pushed or repulsed of sorts. Leave _now._ Leave and never come back. You're not welcome. Even if he found Noah, he'd have to get the kid to safety, plus the added responsibility of Ellie and Greggs _and _the others on the Marker team. There was _no way_ everything would-

"The Marker knows you're here," Nicole whispered into his ear. He glanced to a bench off to the side and saw her sitting on one near a garden spot. "You should be familiar with that feeling. It's the same one you had as you neared the Gold Marker. Fight it, Isaac. You must fight it."

He didn't know how. How could he fight it? Nicole stood and walked toward him, close enough he could discern that dark blue in her eyes that he'd fallen in love with, and rested a hand over his heart.

"It's true that St. Christopher protects you," she said, "but we _all_ protect you. Carry on, Isaac. You cannot stop. Bring us justice!"

As she disintegrated into white light, the medallion reacted to her touch, warming, heating, but not enough to burn his flesh. In fact, the heat was a surge of fiery courage, buoyed up by unknown strength from deep inside him. Nausea and dread burned off under the increase in his emotional fortification. Okay. He understood what was going on. It had been a moment of hopelessness that the job at hand was too big of a job, but, he realized, it was a job nonetheless. Noah needed help; Isaac was going to give that help.

"Do you know what that building is?" he asked Greggs.

Isaac heard hesitance in Greggs' voice as he replied. "To be honest, I've never been up there. I think it's some sort of temple. It's used as a community gathering spot for old-world Japanese descendants. There's also like a…a language school, I think. It's very…posh."

"Is that where Noah is, though?" asked Ellie. "The description matches and everything, but I'm not seeing from here how he could've gotten in."

Greggs stepped around to look up at the terraced building with fancy arcs and lanes of large steps leading up to painted doors. "I only wonder, _if _Noah's in there, _how _did he get there? Did the Marker team's shuttle crash land somewhere nearby?"

"Let's search the area. If he's not here, then, at least, we can rule out this place," Isaac answered. He gestured with his cutter. "We'll start back and work our way forward."

Ellie and Greggs nodded their agreement and they used their flashlights to find the farthest side of the Commons from the temple plaza. In that pitch black gloom, their flashlights illuminated a hulking mass of crumpled and twisted steel. Their footsteps crunched over a coating of broken glass as they neared, and in the minimal circumference of their lights, Isaac saw it was a crashed shuttle, blackened and dented beyond repair.

"Oh, my God," Ellie gasped. "Is that the Marker team's shuttle?"

"It would make sense if it was," said Greggs, brushing at some scraped paint.

It seemed to have nosedived into the side of the station- -the station's emergency system had been online as shutters had clamped closed over the breach to stop the vacuum. Thus, the reason the lights were off. The shuttle had skidded a few dozen more meters, leaving ugly furrows in the metal floor, and losing its wing in the process. An open hatch to the side could've been an exit point. Based on the gory tangle of mutated limbs and copious amounts of blood, there'd been a fight here. Gingerly, Isaac climbed the debris to shine his flashlight inside the shuttle. He saw nothing and heard nothing.

"I'm going in to check it out. You two stay here and I'll radio in anything I find," Isaac said as he pulled himself into the open hatch.

Ellie and Greggs looked up at him, their visors washing him with more light. "Be careful," Ellie said.

Isaac saluted off-handedly before stepping further into the claustrophobic blackness of the shuttle. The interior wasn't worse for wear; not much destruction showed itself here. His first guess was that it had not been a Necromorph attack inside the shuttle, but perhaps one outside. The tentacle that had nailed his ship came to mind. No blood trails or weird markings were present as he flicked his light around, and when he came to the cockpit, the windshield had cracked, but not shattered. Something glowed blue on the inert control panel- -an audio log.

"Found something here," he told Greggs and Ellie. "Hold on a second."

Isaac downloaded the audio log to his RIG and selected 'play' when the option became available. Webster Calhoune's voice came through crisp and clearly panicked.

"Calhoune, here. Something gigantic grabbed the shuttle and fucking _flung _it. I barely managed to gain control and land the bird in one piece. The station looks like hell and we're as far away as can be from the government sector. We're going on foot to the nearest transport hub and from there, we're going to try for the-" Guttural shrieks and wails interrupted Calhoune's log. "The _fuck_?" In the background, Isaac heard several of the team shout and the burst of plasma punctuated the audio which then abruptly cut off.

Silence weighted the trio heavily. Then, "Noah probably hid until everything went quiet and then ran for it," Greggs said. "I don't want to waste anymore time down here."

Isaac agreed. "All right. I'll meet you in a minute." He displayed the holographic keyboard and tapped out a quick message to Noah: _N, hang tight. We've found the shuttle and are making our way to you. Keep quiet and still. IC._ Once he sent it, he felt better, but not enough to feel relieved. The Marker team was out there fighting for survival _towards _the Grey Marker, which would not make it easy.

He followed the tight passage back to the hatch, and after lowering himself down, he jogged to Ellie and Greggs, who inspected something nearer the temple plaza. As he came up to them, he saw they stood over a pond inset into the floor. The black mineral used all over the station had been cut into brick, stacked, and sealed into an atheistically pleasing little wall. He was about to ask what they'd found, when a bubble popped from the pond with a loud burp. Then he peered over the edge of the low wall. Where there should've been water was gelatinous ooze, much like the corruption but greener and more…organic. His presence agitated the infected, pea-colored glop as it began to burp rapidly, matter splattering on the black mineral wall, and he saw…things…slithering around under the surface of the pond.

"Sick," Greggs whispered. "I wonder what happens if you fall in it."

Ellie pointed her plasma cutter at a piece of the wall. "Stand back and let's find out."

Greggs and Isaac took a few measured steps away from the pond, and Ellie used her cutter to sever a chunk of mineral from the wall. It fell into the ooze with a disgusting _gloop_ sound. Nothing happened. Then the color of the pond faded from green lighter to yellow. Was it going to…?

Isaac hauled Greggs and Ellie from the side of the pond much further away. Barely in time, too, as the entire pond went WHOOSH in a gush of yellow fluid that exploded upwards and out, spreading meters in every direction. Little bulbous bodies of infected yellow flopped on the bare floor. When Greggs took a stone from one of the gardens and chucked it at the grouping of Necromorphs, one burst- -a loud crack- -and set off a chain reaction of exploding bodies that destroyed an innocent trashcan.

"Jesus. It gets you coming _and_ going," Greggs said when the show was over.

Ellie snorted. "Sounds like my banking company."

Isaac's attention went over the wall to the bottom of the pond. "There's an audio log down there." He used kinesis to bring up the log. Glop had not destroyed the audio file stored in the log, so he played it for Greggs and Ellie.

"Jaworski, reporting on maintenance request four-oh-one. Looks like there's some fungus growing over the air filter and water pumps in the koi ponds, killing the koi. I changed out the filters and checked the pumps. I'm taking a sample of the fungus to the bio lab for tests. We can formulate a treatment for it there. Until then, regular cleaning of the air filter and water pumps is recommended. On a side note, none of the fungus seems to favor moving water, as the stream around the temple shows no signs of developing fungus. Jaworski, out."

Isaac cocked his ear; yep, he heard the trickle of moving water. He approached one of the small, distressed-looking bridges and leaned over the railing. The stream under the bridge ran with a brisk clip, and he noticed there was no collection of organic material, sustaining Jaworski's report.

"Whatever it is, it's probably a good idea to avoid still-sitting water as much as possible," Isaac said. "This stream doesn't seem to be affected by corruption. I wouldn't worry about it unless there are fish tanks sitting around."

He crossed the rest of the bridge and began striding up the stairs to the red and gold painted doors, Ellie and Greggs close behind him. They reached the doors and found them locked, with no terminal to hack.

"Maybe there's an access duct?" Ellie suggested. "Let's look around some and see what we find."

After a couple minutes of doing that, Ellie called Isaac and Greggs over to show them into a small alcove around the corner of the temple. A dead power cell hung red and lifeless inside the outlet. Isaac used his kinesis to tear the power cell out and put it to rest to the side. The power lines were cleverly hidden behind some decorations hanging on the wall of the temple.

"There should be a replacement around here somewhere. Keep looking," Isaac said, "and give a holler if you find it."

They separated. Isaac, wondering what kept the stream flowing, followed it around to the back of the temple. After several minutes of watching, he thought he knew how the device worked. He had a name for what it was- -a waterwheel- -but he'd never seen one in operation, only models and illustrations in books. The waterwheel slowly revolved as water flowed into slats, but Isaac noticed the water wasn't moving the waterwheel. Rather, the waterwheel moved the water. In the center of the broadside of the wheel, on an axis not rotating, was a metal covering with the blue and white symbol indicating kinesis should be used. Isaac tore off the lid and found two functioning power cells.

"Got it," Isaac said over audio. "Meet me back at the alcove."

As he thought, when he removed one of the power cells, the waterwheel creaked slower and slower until it stopped. The sound of trickling water ceased, leaving the softly chiming bells to break the silence. Greggs and Ellie copied him and several minutes later, they grouped around the empty outlet as Isaac replaced the cell. It took hold with a shower of sparks and lit up green. Then they went around the corner to the unlocked door.

Isaac gestured to Ellie and Greggs to stand back as he opened the door. More bells chimed with the door unlocking and sliding open. He saw the dark interior of the temple before Greggs shouted, "HOLY FUCK!" and a vise tightened around Isaac's entire leg. In the blink of an eye, he was yanked off his feet. He kept hold of his plasma cutter, even as the rope-like tentacle dragged him over the steps, into the stream bed and through some dark hole so quickly he had no time to comprehend what had happened except to yell in surprise and tuck in his elbows.

Then he found himself floating around in the vastness of space staring at a large Necromorph, whose bulbous, meaty base spread out over the tines and beams of some of Rhea's out-station structures. The nest was a familiar one at least, but a bitch to deal with, and already the explosive pods homed in on him.

"Isaac! Isaac, are you still alive?" Ellie, panicked, called over the audiolink.

He strafed left and shot at one of the pods which looked like it would hit him. The explosion of it pushed him backwards. "_Not now_!"

The arms of the nest-creature flailed around, but Isaac had plenty of practice shooting at moving objects, and after another wave of projectiles, he managed to sever them. The main body wiggled around in death-throes, finally going slack and releasing a shining card. He used kinesis to draw the item nearer him, and as luck would have it, it was a diamond semiconductor. Nice. Now if he could survive long enough to cash it in…

"Okay, Ellie, Greggs," Isaac said as he oriented himself. He spotted an O2 station, so he spoke as he flew over to it. "Where the hell am I?"

"Ah, well." Ellie paused for a couple seconds. "Oh. Oh, no."

That didn't sound good. "What is it?"

"We can't track your signal with the equipment in here. I have no idea where you are or how to get you back into the station."

"All right. I'll figure out something. You and Greggs okay?"

"Yeah. We're inside the temple now, trying to figure out what we should do to help you."

He knew there wasn't anything they could do if they couldn't determine where his RIG signal was and there was no point in them hanging around twiddling their thumbs. "I want you and Greggs to focus on Noah. Keep me posted over the link. I'll catch up to you as soon as I can."

"Isaac…I don't want to leave you."

"Hey, sorry to interrupt the moment," said Greggs, "but I think I might know where you can get back in. Water Processing connects to these commons. Based on what I'm seeing, you can possibly get into the station through there."

"It's no use," Ellie said. "We can't upload the route to your RIG. He's got an old laminated blueprint of the commons and the plant."

Isaac grunted. "Describe the blueprint to me. I may be able to work out the route using visual cues."

"You've _got _to be kidding." Her incredulousness was apparent. "We ought to use a station terminal. Then we can find and direct you that way."

"No good. You two have a kid to save." Isaac refilled his oxygen and flew backwards from the wall to get a good view of Rhea's outer skin. "Talk to me."

It took some time, listening to Greggs give a description of the blueprint and interpreting it, but eventually, after several O2 pit-stops, Isaac hovered near an entrance tube to Water Processing. Insulated water ducts spread out in an intricate network, threading through the station like a spider's web, pumping and drawing water into the treatment facility. Corruption had not managed to creep over the entrance, so Isaac magnetically clamped to the steel catwalk and clomped over to the external doors and once inside, breathed a sigh of relief when his suit hissed and pressurized. Another circle portal ahead of him was labeled 'Water Storage'.

"All right. I'm in. I'll give you my progress once I get somewhere."

Ellie responded. "Good. We'll continue to search for Noah. We'll let you know if we find anything. And Isaac?"

"Yeah?"

"Stay alive, will you?"

"You, too."

Then Isaac opened the internal doors to the plant, and immediately, his eye had a sharp twinge. Danger didn't surprise him.

But the very first thing he noticed was how humid the air had grown. He noticed not because his skin felt the humidity- -the sec-suits had a smart response system to environmental changes in temperature- -but because the visor fogged up. A field of enormous tanks spread out in front of him, and flanking the tanks on the floor, were great tubes that speared through the ceiling. His basic knowledge of the water treatment process suggested that he was on the bottom level of the entire plant, and to find his way out, he'd need to go up.

After a few steps into the area, he heard a birdlike shriek that denoted a stalker, coupled with the patter of quick footsteps. Couldn't catch a break, could he? Directly to the side, he found a stasis recharge station between a set of tanks, and he recharged his module, knowing he'd be using it frequently in the times ahead.

Corruption was everywhere here, growing from the ceiling, up and over the water tanks and tubes, giving flesh to inanimate objects. He heard the distant moan of a guardian- -that humongous Necromorph that secured a large section of a wall and spat out smaller lumps of skin, which grew snake-like tails and shot missiles- -and he seriously wondered if maybe he shouldn't go back out into open space to avoid this whole death-trap of a place. His adrenaline spiked his blood pressure; nerves put unpleasant butterflies in his stomach. He'd never vomited before from stress or fear, but damn, he sure felt like it now.

When he touched the medallion settled underneath the layer of chest plates, he tried to convince himself it was because he worried it'd come undone, and _not_ because he needed to screw up the courage to carry on. But who was he kidding? Though not a praying man, Isaac certainly entertained the idea of it before swallowing and forging ahead. To his advantage, the water tanks were in fairly straight rows, and so allowed Isaac to keep the tubes in the wall to his right and check out intersections before crossing.

Remembering his prior experiences, he knew that usually the stalkers came in groups of four or so. They also charged from straight ahead for a slam-attack and raced away to hide behind a corner to watch for another opportunity to charge. If he was quick enough with the trigger, he'd be able to catch a few of them off-guard before they even attacked- -these Necromorphs peeked around corners to judge threat and distance. And speaking of…an ugly beaked head attached to a long neck bobbed from around a corner and the three-pronged talon steadied it.

Isaac drew a deep breath, aimed, and fired a couple times. The stalker squawked. Isaac heard a thud of a body, but then a shriek-bark shredded the air. Pounding footfalls as another stalker charged up from behind. Coolly, he spun on his heel, slowed it with stasis and clipped off the legs and arms. It fell to pieces, and as a windfall, a plasma cartridge skittered on the metal floor from the chest cavity. He picked it up to store it, turned into his original direction, passed the first killed stalker, and continued moving as surreptitiously as a sec-suit allowed.

Stupidly, he got cocky.

Two other stalkers had attempted to attack him while he made steady progress, both easily put down, but after a few minutes of hearing nothing but the low moan of the nearby, yet unseen, guardian, and then seeing a sign to the elevator straight ahead of him, he relaxed. He had one last intersection to cross before he had to turn left toward the elevator, and because he had relaxed and gotten cocky, he didn't check his corners.

A shrill bark jerked him half around- -fuck, no time to get his stasis arm up- -and the charging stalker rammed him with the force of a two-ton shuttle. From somewhere above himself, he saw his feet leave the ground as his body sailed back from the blunt-force trauma. His body crashing into the side of a water tank clanged like the ringing of bells, and white-hot bursts of pain roiled his chest and back. Limply, he sank to the floor, dizzied and the taste of copper on his tongue.

When the stalker shrieked and sprinted at him again, he tried to move, but his body refused when even a minute shift caused a ruckus of pain to explode inside him. The dizziness spun the floor, doubled his vision, and even under this duress, he realized his hands were empty- -as in, he'd dropped his plasma cutter. The stalker pounded closer, curved, spiny body zipping along fluidly. Grunting with the agony of it, Isaac pushed himself to standing and used the water tank as a crutch. He had to prop his left arm up with his right. Blood throbbed in his temples. His first shot went wide, but the second hit the stalker and gave him precious seconds to aim a third time, this time with kinesis.

The stalker was close enough that if Isaac missed with the kinesis, he'd be smashed to death between a stalker's reinforced cranium and a steel tank. His plasma cutter lay, gleaming in the overhead lights of Water Storage, and as the stasis wore off the stalker, kinesis brought his weapon to his hand. He managed two rounds before he dove to the side to avoid another crushing blow. The stalker couldn't slow its forward momentum and slammed into the water tank hard enough for Isaac to hear the crunch of bone, and under that, a splattering. It shuffled back a couple steps, and if Necromorphs had facial expressions, Isaac would say this one was stunned. After a moment, it staggered and collapsed to the floor. A huge dent marred the side of the tank.

That…had been close. Cautiously, Isaac used kinesis on the stalker, and found it sufficiently dead. He spent the next few moments catching his breath. Ringing clanged in his ears from his pain, and as he slumped against the water tank, it dulled little by little until he thought he could continue.

All right. Back to the elevator. Walking exasperated the abused muscles and bones, and he knew he should probably look around for an emergency med-pack, but he didn't feel he'd find one on this level. As he neared the elevator, the guardian wailed and he heard the distinctive _plop_ of those weird, tailed blobs of flesh. Shit. He flattened himself against the side of the tank closest to the elevator, and inched his head out so he could peer around the corner of the tank. One guardian, with writhing tentacles? Check. One flesh-baby and wiggling tail? Check. Elevator beside the guardian? Check.

Isaac peeled away from the steel supports upholding the water tank to consider his options. He could definitely stasis the guardian, circumventing it in the process. If there were any spare napalm lying around, he could take out the guardian in one shot. Well, he needed to backtrack anyway to recharge his stasis. Maybe there was an explosive canister sitting around in one of the corners of the place. After recharging his stasis, Isaac carefully explored Water Storage and as luck would have it, he found a few more bins (medium med-pack- -which he immediately used- -plasma cartridge, and a power node) and a napalm canister that had become tangled up in some of the corruption growing on the wall.

The canister did the trick on the guardian. A blast of heat and the sound of the explosion rolled over Isaac, and he heard the guardian moan a sorrowful wail. When Isaac turned the corner, the guardian had gone limp, body expelling blood and fluid in a sloppy mess on the floor, and a hefty-amount credit chip fell at his feet. So far, so good. But when he stood in front of the elevator, he cursed colorfully. The elevator was tucked in a corner and out of sight from down the confined pathway between the water tubes and the water tanks. He hadn't seen that it was offline. That orange holographic interface pissed him off more than he could fully articulate.

"Greggs? Ellie?" he said over audio. "I've got a problem. I've found a elevator out of Water Storage, but it's offline. I'll have to fix it. You guys have anything to report?" A long silence answered him. Enough for anxiety to clench his gut. "_Greggs? Ellie?_"

"We hear you," replied Ellie. "Sorry. I thought I…" She trailed off. "Never mind. We've hit a few snags here, too. We're trying to search this area thoroughly, but everything's damaged or offline."

Isaac heard a tremble in her voice, a wavering that he'd never heard from her before. "Ellie? You all right?"

"Fine." He heard her sigh. "It feels like I never escaped the Sprawl, you know?"

"Yeah. Keep close to Greggs. I'll be there soon."

They closed out of the audiolink. He spied the power cords running along the wall and followed them. It gave him time to think. Paranoia wasn't a concept that Isaac had entertained at all before the _Ishimura_, but his whole body sensed a difference or a change in Ellie. Greggs hadn't spoken up, either, but perhaps he was concentrating on repairing equipment. Isaac grimaced. On his chronometer, he'd kept track of the time. Another two hours had passed since he and his team had "landed" on Rhea Station. Two hours inside the Marker's signal. Plenty of time to be infected by madness. Was that what was happening? Was it madness overwhelming Ellie and Greggs? Or was it anxiety and natural fear? Isaac didn't know, but he _did _know he needed to move his ass.

He came to the power outlet for the elevator and as he thought, the power cell was damaged. Quickly, he removed the dead cell and not too much further, pulled a spare from a storage kiosk. The cell lit green, the power cords glowed with electricity, and relieved, Isaac hustled back to the elevator, which was now back online. On the ride up, his RIG accepted a holovid.

"Isaac!" Noah. Blood congealed over the cut on his forehead. At least he was alive, though visibly shaken. "They keep coming after me! I don't know…I don't know what to do?"

"Keep calm. Where are you?"

He panted some, eyes shifting rapidly around him. Isaac tried picking out details, but Noah had backed up against a nondescript wall. "Something chased me out of the Commons. I don't know what. It looks like I'm in a…a"- -static shot the channel, disrupting the signal. Isaac heard cluttered bits of words, but nothing distinguishable.

"Noah? I'm losing your signal!" More static showered the signal until finally, the RIG lost it all together. "Dammit. Ellie, Greggs?" Silence on their side. He tried again, but he could not raise them.

And when the elevator came to a stop, he saw why.

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**A/N: **And...cliffhanger. Sorry, guys. Aside from that, this is probably one of my best-written chapters. Do you think so? Next chapter will be posted 10/27/12. See you then!


	13. Water Processing

**A/N:** Welcome back, readers and lurkers! Luckily Hurricane Sandy hasn't brought down any power lines in my area yet, so I was able to get this chapter to you. I hope all of you had a good week and that you have a safe and unstressful weekend! Please, enjoy.

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**Chapter Thirteen: Water Processing**

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Isaac's jaw slackened when he stepped out of the elevator onto a catwalk. Water Filtration was an enormous chamber, as big as Water Storage was. The catwalk hung over the main floor, which was divided into several large pools of water that reached about halfway up the room. In the corner to his left was Water Filtration Main Control. Though the entire area was dark and gloomy without main power, enough illuminated the corners of the chamber to show his problem.

His problem wasn't that he couldn't access Main Control- -the door was pried apart and corruption had grown over the tracks. No, his problem was that the _entire_ chamber had succumbed to corruption. The tissue had coated the walls, the ceiling, crept enterprising fingers over the edges of the pools to dip fingertips into the water. Corruption had spilled onto the catwalk, and as Isaac trudged through the squishy alien flesh, his speed halved, he wondered if access to the other elevator had been blocked. And after several minutes of slow progress, his flashlight cut through the gloom enough to show him that yes, the opposite elevator was completely overgrown with skin.

It must've originated from that side and had spread across the room, as Main Control wasn't nearly as bad. Hm. There weren't any other options available to him at that point- -he wasn't stupid enough to float around outside the station and hope for an entry point without knowing the O2 stations. Main Control would have to work for him. When he went in, everything was offline, but easily, he rerouted power to switch on the holographic interface for the chamber. Lights wavered and came to life as the control panel displayed the schematics for filtration.

After a few minutes of clicking around, Isaac found direct access to the Japanese Commons. At the bottom of the pools were several intake valves that drew water into tubes and shunted it to different areas across the station. If he could drain the right pool, remove the filtration lids, and access the correct intake valve, he'd be able to crawl through the water main to the Japanese Commons. The systems listed the Japanese Commons water main as being located in Pool 3, Section B. He accessed the drainage command for Pool 3 but the computer told him there was a problem with the drainage…some part needed replacing.

Of course. Drainage was located on the same level as Water Storage, so Isaac again backtracked, took the lift, and hunted for the correct door which he entered. The area was zero-g and like everywhere else, equipment was strewn about, faulty, and smeared with blood and two or three torn bodies floated in forgotten corners. The panel directing engineers indicated the problem- -a section of piping needed replacement before drainage systems would activate. Color-coded and labeled pipes and tubes wove throughout the entire room, and it was a matter of searching for the correct area and replacing the burst tube with kinesis. He checked the entire line of tubing, followed it to the huge water dump, which would hold all the water drained from Pool 3, and was satisfied enough to return to the Water Filtration level.

Main Control allowed him to start the drainage command, but as a safety measure, before the pool drained, a lid had to be lowered over the water to ensure no one fell in as the water drained. Out over Pool 3, the mechanical shift of gears grated; alarms sounded as the control panel went orange, blinking OBSTRUCTION- -OBSTRUCTION- -OBSTRUCTION in blocky letters. The corruption had sealed the lid into the ceiling, preventing it from descending to the pool.

Shit. So what now? What now?

Stumped, Isaac collapsed on a desk chair. A gentle hand rested on his shoulder. When he glanced up, startled, he saw Nicole standing at his side. She smiled and said, "Talk me through it."

He didn't question her. "Maintenance access should be a level up from where we are, but the elevator is grown over."

"What about an access point from space?"

"There wasn't one that I saw. We're actually on the bottom of Rhea and we're sitting here surrounded by hollowed rock and mineral. Digging around can't be done without the right equipment."

"So that leaves going through the water mains, then. You need to find a way to get rid of that corruption," Nicole said, stepping to the control panel to gaze up at the ceiling. "You know, it's like human flesh and muscle. It reacts similarly to intense heat or cold."

"You're saying the corruption could be burned off? To do that," he said, "I need something super-heated and something to reach from the catwalk to the ceiling. One piece of equipment could do that, but where would we find a flamethrower in Water Filtration?"

She shrugged. "A bomb, maybe, that would disintegrate the flesh?"

"True, but could also damage the lid, jamming it where it is in the ceiling." Another option, however suicidal, occurred to him. "I could…lever out the filtration lenses and swim into the intake valve after using stasis on it. The schematics suggest I'd be able to swim the water main under the Japanese Commons to a junction, where there's a hatch."

"Isaac…any number of things could go wrong, and there's no oxygen. If things go from bad to worse, you'll drown!"

"Sitting on my ass isn't getting me anywhere." Uncertainty had brought weariness to Isaac, an unbearable, bitter weariness that pained his shoulders and back. When he stood, his bones and joints creaked, nattering at him to rest a spell on the chair instead of compiling his resources. But his people needed him and he could not waste time resting. "Nothing seems available to me up here, so maybe I can find what I need in Water Storage."

"Good plan. Perhaps you'll be struck with inspiration after looking at what you have," Nicole said as she led the way to the catwalk and consequently the elevator. "You always do better when you have a full scope of your resources."

She was right. After rummaging around in a few different areas, one of the maintenance alcoves held promise. Old and out-dated equipment had been stacked up on some storage shelves, and to his triumphant surprise, Isaac uncovered a pressurized water hose attached to a camelback, complete with shoulder-straps, extended hose and handheld trigger. Some disinfectant had been left. One whiff told Isaac the liquid was flammable, confirmed with a flame on the label.

"I knew you'd find something!" Nicole said. And when he turned to thank her, she'd disappeared.

Working quickly, he dumped all the disinfectant into the camelback. It was heavy, heavier even than his sec-suit, but he managed to adjust it to rest comfortably on his shoulders. A couple pumps of the trigger got the liquid following through the plastic tubing to the nozzle. With a flick of a toggle, the spray would pressurize and with any luck, would extend to the ceiling from the catwalk. All he needed to do was jury-rig a flame under the nozzle.

Determination restored, Isaac uncovered some lab equipment in disrepair and among various items, found an old burner that was small enough to duct-tape to the end of the nozzle. The burner was battery-operated and flared up simply enough after he fiddled with it a moment. He hauled his poor-man's flamethrower into the elevator and walked out to Pool 3. Do or die time, he thought, as he relit the burner on the end of his hose and flipped the toggle to spray the disinfectant.

A blast of heat exploded from the nozzle outwards in a geyser of flame. He'd aimed it to the ceiling; it reached…and then some, splashing in a glorious display of orange. Under the fire's roar was sizzling, crackling as the flesh blackened, crisped and eventually flaked away, leaving black ash swirling in the pool. Through the sec-suits air filtration, the smell of charring meat wafted. Minutes slipped by as the fire ate at the coating over the lid, and not too much longer after he started, he'd sufficiently burned off the corruption.

This time, when he again activated the drainage command, a large metal disk shifted out from the ceiling, held by mechanical arms. Slowly it lowered, but a loud crack abruptly halted the lid's progress. As more warning lights flashed across the control panel, he could see electricity sparking from a few of the arms. Something had broken, and the lid halted progress. The computer helpfully informed him that he could lower the lid manually using kinesis. Isaac trooped out, lowered the lid, which snapped shut over the pool. Back he went to the control panel. Drainage had activated automatically when the lid settled in place over the pool, and Isaac heard the rush of water as it flushed away.

Some more mechanical clanging occurred. The filtration lenses inside the pool magnetically attached to the lid, which, when the water drained out, Isaac had to use kinesis to lift the lid back into its holder on the ceiling. Finally the pool was clear of water and he could see the intake valves' spinning fans to draw in the water. When he typed in the command to cut off power to the valve, the computer denied him access and requested a supervisor's clearance code. Okay. He'd gone as far as he could from Main Control. To get down to Pool 3 from the catwalk, he TK'd a ladder from the ceiling and climbed to the floor of the pool. Each of the intake valves was large enough that once he used stasis, he could pass through easily.

Onwards. The tube was slick, but broad enough that he didn't slip around too much. An interminable distance in the closed confines of the tube, sloshing through the dregs of water until his RIG opened a holovid. It was Greggs, his visor disengaged.

"Isaac? Something's…all wrong."

He didn't seem well and that perturbed Isaac. "What do you mean?" Isaac jumped to a terrible conclusion. "Where's Ellie? What's happened?"

"I don't…I'm not sure," and he sounded weaker and frightened, so very frightened like a small animal shivering under a predator's glare. He breathed hard, panting. "We're…I'm not doing so well."

"You're injured?"

"N-no. No. But something's…_shit_, something is keeping us in here." Greggs' face scrunched and his eyes darted to the side. He shook his head. "I tried to stop them, to reason with them. But they just wouldn't listen." Isaac heard the distance in Greggs' voice. "I wanted to avoid the killing, but…but they wouldn't listen." He muttered more under his breath that Isaac couldn't catch.

Isaac swallowed around a lump that had formed in his throat as the hololink switched to Ellie. Her voice sounded strong, yet anxious. "Isaac," she said, "I think that what happened to Stross is happening to Greggs. He's incoherent half the time."

Every curse word known to him clamored around in his head as he realized that Greggs was losing his tenuous hold on sanity. It'd happened so fast, almost too fast. "Hang in there. I'm coming." He prayed- -again, not a praying man- -that he was telling the truth. "You get that contact beam out of Greggs' possession, and you find a way to keep him away from you."

She licked her lips and nodded. "I copy that. I'm sure there's a room around here I can lock him in. You hurry back, okay?" The hololink window closed.

His mind tangled around the worry and uncertainty. Was it the Marker fucking with Greggs? Probably. But he'd seemed perfectly fine when he'd seen him last, what? A half-hour ago? A little less? What had changed so suddenly? He didn't know, didn't care as he quickened his pace to a jog. All that mattered was getting them off this rock with sanity and health intact. Up ahead, three different paths were presented, but after a moment's worth of study, Isaac saw the engineers had labeled and color-coded each of the three mains. The Japanese Commons was centermost and color-coded red.

Then his eye twanged, and he heard it this time, the movement of a slimy, fleshy mass slithering in a confined space, but he didn't react fast enough.

He got out: "Son of AUUUGH!"

Before his legs were yanked from under him. Again. So rapidly that he couldn't even think as he flew through the water main. He hit the sides of the tubes, sec-suit protecting him from the brunt of the impacts, darkness one long, unending veil, and saw stars when his head collided with something hard and unforgiving. All at once, the tentacle slackened.

Using the flashlight on his plasma cutter, Isaac spotted some infected yellow bits. Screaming "Take _this_ fucker," he aimed just so and fired a few rapid shots. The tentacle whipped him up, down, all around, causing bells to ring in his ears, but he managed another two or so shots into the weakened skin. An inhuman scream echoed from far away and with one last writhe, the tentacle flung Isaac away. He rammed into something- -that something gave way, and he tumbled around in more darkness, knocking knees, elbows and every other part of him until he pounded into a solid surface.

Pain, a dull, aching, everywhere pain, let him know that yes, he was alive. Barely. He pushed himself over and faced an Isaac-sized hole where he'd crashed with enough force to shred through the ceiling and wiring to a floor. He didn't know where he was. Not the Japanese Commons. Unsteadily, he climbed to his feet and stood against a wall to fend off the dizziness, his heart racing in his chest. His leg felt beat to hell, but intact.

Screaming interrupted his recuperation. Not Necromorph screaming, though there was that, but real, alive, save-me-please-I'm-gonna-die screams.

"Go," Nicole said to him.

He went running down the badly stained corridor in front of him and careened around a corner into an open area where a group of Necromorphs crowded around the wall furthest from him. Abruptly, he halted to assess the situation. There were five usual slashers and one advanced one, by the looks of it, clawing at a closed door. Blades screamed against the metal. The element of surprise was on his side, so he first put the advanced slasher in stasis and trimmed the crowd. To conserve ammo, he used the two blades off the first slasher to impale another two, and so on until the advanced slasher was left and then, dismembered.

As Isaac approached the door, he heard murmurs, crying, and soft sobbing of living people. The slashers had shredded through the door, not enough to get through but enough to ruin the opening mechanism. The peeled lips of metal were sharp to the touch. Above the door hung a sign, stating 'Emergency Clinic' in red, easy-to-read letters. When Isaac set his eyes to an open strip to peer behind the door, he could make out huddled figures in the darkness and the flash of RIGs.

"Hello?" Isaac called, his stomach clenched with anticipation. "Is everyone all right?"

A sigh of relief rippled through the occupants. From a corner, a young man stepped forward into Isaac's light, his voice cracking with strain. "H-help us! Please. We're trapped!"

"What's your name?"

"William Jenson," he said. He licked his lips as he put his face level with Isaac's. "Will, actually."

"Will, how many survivors are with you?"

Will glanced over his shoulder, and he seemed calmer when he replied. "There're twelve of us. You think…you think you can get us out of here?"

"I'll do my best." So many, he thought to himself, so many. "Keep everyone calm. I'll see what I can do to get you out." Isaac sent his RIG code to Will- -thankfully, Samson had overridden the information access functions so that Isaac's identity would not be displayed. He could communicate with others as long as he invited them. "Contact me over audio if you need anything."

"Okay. Hurry. I don't know how many more of those things are out there."

"I know."

Isaac concentrated on the doors. They were locked and offline. Not even the holographic interface was on display after the onslaught of the slashers. In the dim light of his visor, he groped to the wall at the door's side, where he found an inlayed panel that slid off under the correct pressure. It revealed some of the door's mechanisms. Normally, doors would house a secondary, manual crank in the event of catastrophic power failure, which would pull open closed doors for emergency personnel. But when he worked the crank, the doors creaked, resisted, and ultimately refused opening.

When he grunted in disappointment, Will's voice crackled over the audio. "What's wrong?"

"Manually opening the doors isn't an option," Isaac said. "Our next moves are to cut open the doors or find a way to bypass them."

"There's equipment for that?"

"Don't know. I going to find out," he replied, standing from his crouch in front of the panel. "What part of the station is this?"

"We're in the CEC Human Resources Department," said Will. "Most of us were on our way to an emergency shuttle when…we were chased into here."

Isaac grimaced, though unseen. An office. There probably wasn't any heavy-cutting equipment lying around, but he'd been in CEC buildings frequently enough to know the general layout. Maintenance ducts would riddle the structure like honeycombs. Before he dedicated too much time to the endeavor, he'd better make sure it was worth the effort and not a waste of time.

"Could you do something for me?" Isaac asked. "Look around on the walls. Is there maintenance access? It'll be a red hatch with a holographic wrench on it."

He heard Will repeat the instructions out loud and the talking and movement of people on the other side of the link. There were a few moments of live airwaves when Isaac heard a triumphant "HERE!" both on the audio and through the door.

"Okay, yes, there's a hatch here. What're you planning?"

"Well," said Isaac, "I'll find where that duct ends up and clear the way to you. There should be a connecting duct around here somewhere."

The emergency clinic was in a common area with several doors leading off to different sections of the building, each labeled. A few were locked, but all had disturbing traces of gore and death, as well as the usual indication of a Marker signal. Epitaphs scribbled on the walls…alien symbols…blood-smears, sprays, and handprints redecorated the space. Nothing jumped out at him, but he kept his plasma cutter up in case.

His exploration took him to a galleria window overlooking Rhea. The station sat in silence, the look and feel of abandonment present at every shaded window, each darkened building. Director Daniels' face no longer graced the enlarged vidscreens curving over Rhea, and instead, power seemed to have been cut from the emergency station. And, as he stood overlooking a once prosperous station, his eye followed the line of an adjacent structure up, up, up until a familiar shape drew his full attention. Docked up top of that building was a shuttle, perhaps one that was undamaged and large enough for twelve.

He renewed his efforts then. After some searching around in the destroyed office, tiptoeing over some corpses of dead R-Sec (plasma rifles dropped, he noted), he opened an unlocked door to a connecting office space with monitors and chairs, along with forgotten coffee cups and lockers. A security station? Protruding from the wall was a maintenance hatch, and happily, a bench. To save steps, he brought in the pulse rifles and set them on the desk. Those would be needed. Then he opened the duct. Carefully, he crawled through - -weight flexing the sheet metal- -until he rounded a curve and came face-to-face with the exit.

As was his habit, he flipped and pulled free of the duct into the dark room. Some emergency lighting remained, but the majority of the space had been overturned, with loose furniture shoved against the doors. Hiding in the corners was a group of frightened individuals. Will came forward, his hand out.

"It's a relief you're here," he said, pumping Isaac's arm. "We were getting concerned you'd left us."

"Are you getting us out?" asked a frayed-looking woman with a small girl cuddled in her arms. "Will you take us off Rhea?"

Her question summoned the others to surround him with pleading in their voices and faces. Isaac lifted a hand to ease them back. "I have some good news. A shuttle's docked at the top of the building across from this one. I'll help you all get there in one piece, but I won't be leaving with you."

"It's suicide to stay on the station!" said a man from the behind the rest of them.

Isaac shrugged. "Probably, but that's not your concern. Will, there's a security station at the other end of this vent. I want you to help get people organized here. Feed them into the duct one by one, and I'll help them out the other side. Once we've collected everyone, we'll decide where to go from there."

"You mean you don't have a plan?" asked the frayed-looking woman, over her girl's head. Her eyes darted around and her mere presence was screaming hysterics. The others went quiet, waiting with hushed silence to hear Isaac's reply, which came a couple moments later.

"Quite frankly," he told her, "no. But since this is a Necromorph outbreak, you take things as they come. Our first step is to get everyone out of this death trap. So," he continued, keying open the maintenance hatch, "out we go."

He slipped inside the duct once more and shuffled along to the other side. More sheet metal flexed as people began crawling behind him and when he exited, the next person was ready to be helped. Soon all twelve survivors huddled together inside the small office space, and the last one out was Will, who flinched when Isaac handed him a pulse rifle.

"Pick another person to handle this second rifle," Isaac said. "There's something I have to do."

Isaac exited the office space, glanced around cautiously, and crouched over the two dead security guards. Their RIGs supported stasis and kinesis, and with some deft adjustments, he snapped free the modules from each suit. He went back into the security station to Will. Standing beside Will was another man, thirties, wearing a bandanna around his head and overalls that denoted his position in some type of manual labor.

"This is Maheer," Will said. "He's got the most experience dealing with rifles."

"I was in security for a time," Maheer explained with a shy smile. His accent was light, but there and very ethnic. "But I switched career paths."

"Anything's better than nothing," Isaac replied. "Come over to the bench for minute. I'm fixing up your RIGs with stasis and kinesis."

Maheer shook his head. "I've got both integrated already into my RIG. Put them on Alice. Alice?"

An older woman threaded through shoulders to meet Isaac. She had iron-grey hair and a set jaw. Isaac liked her immediately, and briefly wondered why _she _hadn't taken control instead of Will, if only because she had a more commanding air than Will did.

"I believe I've found my shit," she told him, matter-of-factly, "and I thank you for that."

Will snorted from the side. "As if you'd ever lost it."

"I certainly did back there. I don't know what came over me," she replied.

"Never mind that. More importantly, if we go up against some Necromorphs," Isaac said, continuing to upgrade Alice's RIG, "shoot at the limbs first."

Will dutifully stood by as Isaac finished up Alice's RIG. "Why is stasis and TK important?"

"When you're facing six or seven Necromorphs, stasis helps to slow 'em down a bit. Makes them easier to shoot, too. The kinesis has its advantages when conserving ammo," Isaac explained as he worked the modules onto Will's RIG. The RIG accepted the changes, and Will fiddled with the unfamiliar equipment.

They nodded their understanding, and Isaac then motioned the group to the windows where a view of the shuttle presented itself. He gestured to it, sitting prim and proper many meters over their heads like a beacon of salvation on the road through hell.

"That's what we're going for. If we cooperate and keep calm, we can get there. I'd be lying if I said the way was easy. It's not," he said. "The best we can do is pool our resources and stick together. Does anyone know that building?"

"I do," said Alice. "It's Financial Incorporated. There's a courtyard on the ground level that connects all these surrounding buildings." Isaac slanted his head to see below them. An atheistically pleasing glass roof spread a glittering wave between the bottom sections of each of the five or six buildings. Alice continued as he looked. "Stairs are just through these offices. I don't think the elevators are even online anymore."

"Sounds like a good enough plan," Isaac replied. He turned back to the group. "Here's what we'll do. Three of us have weapons. We'll divide everyone into three teams, four people per team, each with a weapon. If we should be attacked, it'll be easier for us to manage everyone. The best way to go about this is to move as quickly and quietly as possible. Is that understood?"

"You want us to keep our eyes peeled for supplies or useful equipment?" asked a man who had a goatee.

"Sure." At least someone was thinking. "I know it's gruesome, but dead security usually have weapons near their bodies. We can't waste time. Let's split everyone up and move."

The woman and girl (Xandra and Kirilee), an older gentleman (Reginald) and another younger woman (Grace) were in Isaac's group. Alice was with Will's group, and Maheer in charge of another. Alice, Isaac, Maheer, and Will kept open audiolinks to maneuver through the disarrayed floor to where the stairs were located, thankfully unobstructed. But when Isaac keyed open the door, the stairwell was pitch black and ominously silent.

"I've got a bad feeling," said Will.

Pain throbbed behind Isaac's eye. "Yeah, me, too. Everyone, watch your heads. Some of these things scramble around on the ceiling."

The stairwell was not enclosed, with a metal hand railing on the inside turns of the stairs. Not even the emergency lights functioned, but it seemed that the doors to each level were accessible. With much trepidation, Isaac eased into the stairwell. His flashlight did little to stave off the fear and inky blackness. The dark amplified sound. A pipe clanged around above them and as Isaac made slow progress down the steps, he felt Grace's hand grip his shoulder. At each sound she gasped and jumped and put Isaac on edge. After one particularly loud crash- -almost as if a Necromorph had tripped into a file cabinet and sent it end over end down a flight of stairs, Grace shrieked and set off Kirilee wailing in her mother's arms. So much for stealth.

"I can't take it! They're…they're everywhere!" Grace said. She sank to the steps and buried her face in her hands. "I can't do this. I'm better off dead!"

Great. "How many floors to ground level, Alice?" he asked.

"Nearly there. What's wrong?"

"Grace is having a panic attack. Pass us by and continue on." There wasn't any reason to hold the others, since they were currently on a landing. "I'll take care of it."

Will's group and Maheer's group trooped past them, their flashlights sending patches of brightness sailing over blood-splattered surfaces. Isaac handed Reginald the plasma cutter so the flashlight gave off maximum beam when the other groups continued on. Xandra shushed and rocked Kirilee as he crouched in front of Grace and firmly, gently gripped her upper arms. He wasn't sure what he'd say or do. Comfort wasn't his strong suit, but his will to get these few people to safety stirred in him, gathered his strength and the correct words.

"Grace. You can't give in to it. I'm not letting you stay here, even if I have to sling your ass over my shoulder." He stood and drew her up with him, standing her tall and straight. She gazed at him, her jaw slackened, eyes glassy under his visor's display lights. "Get it together. Understand?"

Numbly, she nodded, swallowed a couple times. "Okay. Sorry. Sorry. I'm okay, now." A deep breath, inhaled and exhaled. "Thanks for that."

"We have to keep going. C'mon," he said. He released Grace to reach out for his cutter. Reginald returned it. "This way."

But under the stress of keeping everyone calm and quietly moving along the stairwell, he'd forgotten the eye-pain. It sung, suddenly, causing him to flinch and press a hand to his visor. At the same time, he heard the angry, terrifying roar of Necromorphs from everywhere at once. Isaac cursed and yelled, "EVERYONE, RUN!" as a spiny, scorpion-like Necromorph known as a leaper landed flush to the floor in front of him.

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**A/N: ** Sorry for another cliffhanger, readers. As always, let me know what you think. Next chapter will be published Nov. 3rd. Until then! =)


	14. Courtyard Massacre

**A/N:** Welcome back, readers and lurkers. I do truly have all those affected by Hurricane Sandy in my thoughts and heart. I hope all of you out there are safe and sound. Please, enjoy. =)

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**Chapter Fourteen: Courtyard Massacre**

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Isaac's first reaction was to stasis the leaper. Good thing he did, too, as two more landed on the ground, long tails writhing and whipping around. He hit those with stasis and focused on dismembering the first leaper. The sound of combat and terror echoed through the stairwell and over his audio.

"Maheer, Will! Use your stasis!" he said and kept firing the limbs off the leapers. He put down the three swiftly. "Run like hell if there's more!"

"OH, GOD!" someone screamed from behind him. "AUUUUGH!"

Something heavy collided with him, knocking him off balance and causing him to fall ass-over-head down the stairs quite a ways. Fuck, _ow._ How he didn't break his damn neck, he'd never know. Knees and elbows and back banged up, rattled, his fall stopped when he rammed into a wall on a landing. His visor shone dim light, enough for him to check the arms that clung to him.

The leaper's body pinned him, the tail swaying around, fangs gnashing, blood and spit dripping on his visor, and where the fuck was his plasma cutter? His muscles bunched, complaining, but he didn't relent until he stuck a foot between their bodies and _kicked_. The leaper roared, wiggled around, but not fast enough. He grabbed the tail, jammed a foot into the base of the leaper's skull, and twisted up with everything in him. With a sickening crack, the tail popped out of socket, and went limp. Then to finish the job, Isaac stomped the shit out of the arms scrabbling on the floor, not relenting until both arms separated from the leaper's torso.

Desperately, he searched around for his cutter or a weapon to use with TK, but he was drowned in the darkness. He couldn't find any other beams of light. "Is everyone okay? Will, Maheer? Alice?" His foot hit a stair and he stumbled, slammed his palms hard to the floor. He forced himself up. Screaming closed in him all around, but without the flashlight, he couldn't fucking _see _anything. Light came from nowhere, shone on him.

"LOOK OUT!" someone else screamed from somewhere above him. "DUCK!"

Isaac ducked, heard a blade-tipped tail whiff over his head and ping off the wall. Scrambling, he took the stairs under him on hands and knees. Then light blinded him, startled him when he thought it was R-sec. The sharp report of his plasma cutter cracked through the dense noise, and a large mass thudded to the floor behind him. Vaguely, he heard a child's wail and the stampeding of fast-moving feet on the metal stairs. If they were from the living or dead, he wasn't sure.

"Hurry!" It was Grace with the plasma cutter. She hauled him to his feet and shoved the tool into his hands. "We've got to get out of here!"

Together, they took the steps as quickly as they dared, fairly airborne around the corners. The stairs were interminable, his eye was throbbing, and he didn't realize how filled to brimming with Necromorphs this building had been when lurkers burst out from a vent. He halted, on his toes, and shoved Grace back up the stairs to the next landing to shoot stasis at the lurkers. But when he activated the module, none was available. Shit.

"Grace! Reach into my back pocket and find the stasis pack!" A few missiles grazed by and crackled on the wall beside them.

"What?"

"NOW!" He felt Grace's hands reach into his pocket and shift around, but _in the wrong pocket_! "The _other _pocket!"

"There're a million pockets back here!" she cried. Again her hand wiggled in the wrong pocket.

"Left! LEFT!"

Finally, he felt her fish in the correct pocket, grasp something and withdraw it. "How does it work?"

As he explained it, a squealing lurker leapt to the area of floor in front of them, having realized prey was up a level on a landing. Isaac shot off one of the three tentacles over the hideously deformed baby, but it fired another round of projectiles. Those were too close to dodge; besides, Grace would be safer behind him. So he manned up. The two missiles hit him square in the chest. He hollered- -that shit felt like a forceful knife stab- -even though the sec-suit absorbed the impact. Breathlessly, a dull roar of blood in his ears, he concentrated on the two remaining tentacles.

"GOT IT!" Grace said.

Now he was in business. "You run past. I'll hold them off as long as I can. When I tell you, you _go_!" Before she could answer (or argue), he put stasis on the lurker in front of him, dodged the corner and granted the second one the same favor. "GO!"

Grace, slipping by like a sylph, darted around, and hoofed it further down the stairs, disappearing out of his sight. He finished off the lurkers and followed after her retreating footfalls. Then he heard her shriek; a second later something thumped hard. Temples rumbled with the force of blood rushing in his veins.

"Grace? Gracie, you all right?" Rushing forward, chasing after his flashlight beam, he tripped into bits and pieces of body parts, and meaty, spiny chunks that were evidently leapers. His light ghosted across the next landing and spotlighted Grace on her ass. "Grace! Get up!"

He came to her side. She stared forward, vacant. "I…I stumbled…and fell…"

When he swept the beam over the floor, he regretted it. Will had been decapitated, his body torn asunder, blood splattered from ceiling to floor. Another body slumped in the corner, fairly fresh, and not one Isaac immediately recognized. He noticed that Will's pulse rifle was not at his side. Some other parts- -a leg or two, an arm- -were scattered about in fresh patches of blood.

"The others are ahead of us," Isaac told her quietly. "And we've got Necromorphs behind us. We should go."

Grace nodded, and accepted his help in standing as she wiped away tears with the heel of her hand. Blood smeared to her cheek. "I meant to tell you- -Reginald's gone, too. One of those things…"

"I understand. We should be very close to the ground level." He pressed a hand between her shoulder blades. "Let's go."

As they descended the stairs, Isaac heard his own harsh breathing and palpitating heartbeat. Alice, nor Maheer, had linked with him, but perhaps they were in trouble or thought he was dead. Most of his worry was on what was behind them- -how many more leapers were on the hunt? One thing at a time, Clarke, he reminded himself. Get to the ground floor, first. To his relief, he and Grace crossed three more landings before a beautiful white holograph indicated an unlocked door.

Once through, he scuffled to a stop. They'd exited to the main lobby of Human Resources and in a loose semicircle, panting, sweaty, and pale, was the rest of the survivors! He heaved a sigh. There was Alice, a pulse rifle hefted in her hands, and Maheer, who stood at the closed doorway gazing through a hole in the wall. Xandra and Kirilee sat on a padded bench. Splotches of red and white covered Kirilee's face from her upset.

"You made it!" Alice said, approaching them. "We thought you'd been killed for sure!"

"Nearly," answered Grace. "We lost Reginald."

Alice nodded. "Will and two others didn't make it either." She ran a hand over her close-cropped hair. "And we have yet to get across a courtyard and to the top of a building."

Four of their people had met an untimely demise in the stairwell, and their deaths pricked at Isaac's conscience. He brushed away the guilt as best he could and left the women to approach Maheer. "What do you see?"

"Take a look," said the younger man, stepping aside for Isaac. "It is almost like a massacre occurred."

He was right. The courtyard was littered with dead bodies, hooded or destroyed in one form or another, and not by Necromorphs, though an infector would gleefully transform those bodies into slashers. In blood, the strange alien language was scrawled on the ground or on windows bordering the courtyard. Several places burned with patches of fire, where gas leaked and had ignited. Here, too, were abandoned piles of luggage, some green plastic storage bins, and overturned recycle bins. A huge pile of metal refuse blocked two doors on either side of the courtyard, presumably as a barricade. In a straight line across from Human Resources, a friendly veranda announced Financial Incorporated's entrance. The door looked unlocked, but from this distance, Isaac couldn't be sure.

"Quiet out there," Isaac said. He thumbed the grip on his plasma cutter. "We might be able to make it to the other side without setting off any attacks."

"We should be so lucky," Alice said from behind them. "It's a straight shot to Financial Incorporated."

"Not so straight. There are some obstructions we will have to go around," replied Maheer. "But at least we can _see_ where we are going."

Isaac turned from the hole. "We'll go in groups again. I'll go first with Grace, Xandra and Kirilee, and one other. Alice and Maheer, you can split the rest."

Maheer nodded and stepped away, but Alice remained, blocking Isaac at the wall. "I find it strange that you swoop in to save us, but you never told us your name. My RIG won't even display it. Why's that?"

"My name's not important." Thank you, Samson, for covering my ass, thought Isaac. "The longer we wait here, the worse it gets out there. Gather your people and let's get everyone to that shuttle."

Alice's lips thinned, but she understood the urgency of the situation and so trod to form her group. Grace already headed in his direction, and Xandra followed her with Kirilee on her back. A familiar man separated from the others, the one with the goatee, and nodded at Isaac.

"Walter Klein," he said. His eyes glinted grey-blue and a muscle twitched in his jaw. "I hope to hell you know what you're doing."

"Most of the time," Isaac replied, dryly. Walter's expression soured, but Isaac had already reached out to palm the hologram that would open the door. "Stay low and close, everyone."

Isaac jogged out and down a short incline to the courtyard, footsteps tapping through the quiet air. Bare rock had been sand-blasted for a smooth, flawless sidewalk, lined with benches and pretty pots of flowers. Most of the lighting was out, but Rhea had worked in a series of reflection panels framing the courtyard's glass roof so that sunlight beamed in, bright and warm. Up ahead was a huge wreck of black mineral, and something metal twisted and bent out of shape. He crouched behind it, using the cover to assess the path in front of him. A part of the ground was torn up, as though something had burst from underneath it upwards, but aside from a quick detour around, it was a pretty clear way to the Financial Incorporations building.

"I keep expecting for the worst to happen," murmured Grace beside him. "I'm shaking."

"We'll get there," Isaac told her, and continued to jog through the deserted courtyard. He got to under the veranda leading into Financial Incorporated and gestured for his group to stay in a semi-protected corner. "We'll wait for the others here before opening the doors."

The others agreed, pressing their backs flat against the wall as Isaac took a knee to watch the others' progress. Alice headed her group in single file. They followed Isaac's footsteps exactly, similarly pausing behind the wreckage before continuing on. Her group successfully crossed the last leg of the courtyard and Alice stood beside Isaac, her pulse rifle at the ready. Here came Maheer's group, calm and steady on course.

"Alice," Isaac said, not breaking his concentration on Maheer's group, "open the doors and find out if the elevators are functioning."

"Got it." And she left to do so.

Maheer had made it to the obstruction in the path. To Isaac's consternation, a shadowed flitted over the courtyard. Something small and quick. He craned his neck upwards, but the reflective panels put the entire ceiling into a blind spot. Across the way Maheer's head bobbed around, and there was some gesturing from him. He turned to his group. Some more gesturing. Then his voice crackled over audio.

"I think there's a something flying overhead," he said. "Should we run for it?"

"No, don't risk it. Try to edge your way to the path under the verandas. You'll have to go one at a time until you're there," said Isaac. "Move to your left, first. I see some better cover there."

"All right. I see it." He adjusted to a half-stooping position, pulse rifle clamped to his chest. "Here goes."

Isaac watched as Maheer darted from the wreckage to the cover he'd seen and gazed upwards, shielding his eyes with the flat of his hand. Isaac knew that it was for show to keep the others calm- -he and Maheer knew something was hiding in the sun, but, not _what_. Then Maheer sprinted the last dozen or so meters to relative safety under a bordering veranda for a vidscreen shop. He waved to the next in line. She copied Maheer, and so did the next man. Hurriedly, they circumvented the rest of the courtyard using the outstretched verandas to hide from the infector (Isaac had a hunch) and came safely to where he guarded.

Alice linked with him at that moment. "Good news! We've found the elevators and they're working!"

"Maheer's group made it across. We're coming in." From the roof, something that flapped large, deadened-flesh wings dived into the courtyard. It latched onto a corpse, a proboscis crunching through skull to brain issue. An infector; he'd fucking _known _it. "Get inside!"

Isaac aimed and timed carefully a shot as Maheer worked the door controls. The doors hissed open, and the last of the survivors poured through. He blasted off the infector's proboscis, killing it instantly, but not quick enough. The newly formed slasher hauled itself upright on bladed tips and stalked around, looking, no doubt, for live prey. Another infector glided from the rafters to attach to another corpse. Dammit. Nothing he could do as the doors closed and hid them. For now.

"That infector will transform every body in the courtyard into a Necromorph," he told Maheer. "They'll swarm this building. We have to get to the shuttle. Alice? Where are you?"

"I'm relaying our coordinates. The way seemed pretty clear," she said. "We'll see you in a few."

Isaac heard his RIG tick with acceptance of the coordinates, and he held out his palm to signal the waypoint. The blue light raced over the floor of the building and curved a path around a corner. Financial Incorporated looked very close in design to CEC Human Resources, except he didn't see much damage or signs of struggle, which gave him hope that these people had managed to evacuate before the outbreak started. The place had the definite feel of abandonment.

True to her word, Alice and the others waited together in an offset hallway where a company elevator continued to run. A holographic display on the side of the elevator doors listed the floor numbers and labels. Several company transports were docked on the upper levels. Those must've been used for escape, save one.

"We're almost home-free," Isaac said. "We have to split the group up again to take the elevator in shifts. We can't afford a weight overload."

"Women and children first," said Maheer. "That means you go up, Alice."

She seemed to disagree, but she didn't express it. "Very well. Ladies, shall we?"

"Wait just one damn minute!" Klein brushed past arms to stand in front of Isaac. "You can't decide for us! I'm not staying in this hellhole a second longer." His finger prodded Isaac, whose impatience simmered dangerously close to anger. "You can't stop me from getting on that elevator!"

"Lower your voice," Alice said. "We don't know what else is in here with us."

Klein wheeled to the older woman. "Oh, and who elected _you _as commander, because I certainly didn't!"

In that moment of inattentiveness, Isaac lashed out with his forearm, nailing Klein square on the back of the neck. The man crumpled to the floor like a sheet and lay still. For a second no one moved as everyone gazed apathetically at Klein. No one admonished Isaac for his brash action, even as he prodded the annoyance with his foot. Klein remained motionless, unconscious. One thing they didn't need in the middle of a Necromorph outbreak was an egotist wasting time with his jackass comments. The quiet was interrupted a second later.

"OH, GOD, NO!" The agonized outburst from Xandra leapt Isaac's heart to his throat. Every fucking slasher in the vicinity would hear. "KIRILEE? _Kirilee_, no! KIRILEE?"

He spun with enough time to catch Xandra's elbow before she went careening into the dark corridor. "_Quiet_, Xandra! What's happened?"

She jerked her arm to extricate herself, but Isaac's hand was stronger. When she couldn't get free, she faced him, and her panic radiated from her. "I-I only took my eyes off her for a second! Just a second!" Her grief coated her voice, made her difficult to understand. "And when I turned back…she…wasn't there! Oh, God," she moaned, collapsing to the floor, half-supported by his hand, "oh, God, where could she be?"

The temptation to leave without Kirilee was like poison inside his mind. She was a four year-old kid. He had the group to worry about. Leaving would get everyone else killed. He had Noah and Ellie and Greggs to find. Ellie and Greggs were going mad, might've already killed each other by now. Kirilee had succumbed to the madness. He was too old for this shit; he wasn't some goddamned superhero.

"You'd never live with yourself if you didn't try," Nicole told him, from his audio. "Your guilt would consume you for even this small thing."

She was right. Resigned, calm, Isaac turned to the others, who looked on, horrified. "I'll take Xandra and look for Kirilee. You continue on. Link with me when you've gotten to the shuttle."

"You can't expect to find her in this ruin!" Grace said, her voice shrill, as she grabbed his arm. Tugged. "You have to come _with _us. She's a lost cause!"

"If I thought that, I wouldn't have volunteered. She's a young, frightened girl. She can't have wandered far," he told her.

She shook her head vigorously. "Don't go! _We _need you!"

"I don't expect you to understand."

Stung, Grace let her hands fall, and it seemed as if she would cry, but she stiffened her back. "You're right, I don't."

Alice came forward and tugged Grace into the open elevator car. "We'll see you topside, boys."

Through his visor, he felt Grace's penetrating glare, as if he'd betrayed her. She was young; she'd recover. Then the elevator doors closed. The men stood in a tight, anxious group out of the hallway, with Maheer watching the deep shadows, expecting the worst or the inevitable as Isaac did. Isaac turned his attention to Xandra, getting the petite woman to her feet. In the visor's light, she was drawn and exhausted. Several cuts and abrasions marred her chest and cheeks. He didn't think she'd last much longer under the strain of the outbreak.

"Maheer," Isaac said, calling Maheer's attention, "if things get sticky, leave. None of that no man left behind bullshit, okay?" Maheer nodded his understanding. "Good luck, then."

"And the same to you," Maheer replied. "Salaam."

Isaac led Xandra a few meters into the open lobby area outside the elevator halls. "Xandra," he said softly, "you know your daughter best. Something might've caught her attention. Look around. What would've drawn her closer?"

He didn't think she'd be responsive, but her eyes shifted, searching the corners and gloominess. She gasped and pointed. Some dim light illuminated a wall painting of a cuddly teddy bear. It wanted to be friends, this teddy bear, with cute black button eyes and nose, a smile, and a white belly. Around the inside of its plush belly was the word DAYCARE with an arrow showing the correct direction.

"There!" Xandra said. "Kirilee loves teddy bears. She might've tried to go to the daycare!"

"It's worth a try," replied Isaac. "Stay behind me."

He came to the corridor's opening and swept the flashlight beam to and fro. All clear. It seemed to be a main walkway, as it was broader than the other corridors. A few benches lined the hall, along with company posters and reminders of workplace protocol. Cautiously, he tread the tile floors, inadvertently counting the plants flanking the benches in black mineral pots. When his hololink flicked on, the loud static scared him out of his skin.

Ellie, her brows knitted, crying. "_Isaac! Where are you_? _Where are you_?"

And then the hololink cut out. "Ellie? _Ellie_?" He couldn't raise her on the link. His stomach sank to his toes; he felt sick with worry.

"Who was that?" Xandra asked.

"A friend of mine I was trying to get to before I ran into you guys," he replied, putting on some speed. A line of dancing teddy bears a meter or so up the wall indicated the daycare's direction, easy for any four year-old to follow. "We were separated in the Japanese Commons."

"I know that place," Xandra said. "It's-did you hear that?" She moved ahead of him, ignoring his hand on her arm. "It's humming. I can hear humming! _Kirilee_? _Kirilee_!"

He'd had a looser grip on her this time, and she smoothly pulled free to sprint the rest of the corridor. Isaac tromped after her, hoping nothing would pop out and slaughter him as he did so. Xandra rounded a corner, out his sight for a second before he followed. He nearly bowled her over as she'd stopped dead at a wide bay window that looked into the daycare. At the second's glance, he comprehended her fearful stare and managed to clamp his hand over her opened mouth before she screamed.

Kirilee had gotten into the daycare, all right. She sat on the carpeted floor, playing with a teddy bear, while bloodied and mutilated corpses surrounded her. Necromorphs didn't do this. The bodies were too…whole. God, it looked like…parents had murdered their children then committed suicide. Yet that wasn't the worst part. Crawling from the vents came two infectors, which dropped to a couple prone bodies. Xandra shivered uncontrollably beside him.

"I'm dropping my hand," he whispered. "Don't scream. I'll get Kirilee out, but don't draw attention to her."

He had a bad idea in mind, one he wasn't sure would work, but he had to give it a try. Shocked, Xandra remained at the bay window, too terrified to do anything except stare. Isaac eased around her, rounding the corridor's curves to its cheerful entrance. The doors opened. Infectors sucked on the dead bodies. Isaac used TK to grab the teddy from Kirilee's hands. Her head snapped up, and to his relief, her gaze kept on the blue light. Once he had the teddy in his possession, he shook it and held it up. Here, do you want the teddy?

A look of fear crawled over Kirilee's face. "She's afraid of your visor," Nicole told him. She appeared next to Kirilee. "You'll have to show her your face if you want her trust."

Shit. He chinned the button to disengage the visor then he smiled and offered the teddy again to Kirilee. She smiled back, reaching her arms out. 'Give it to me!' she seemed to say. The infectors had moved to other corpses, and by some miracle, the newly-made slashers hadn't spotted him yet. Isaac shook his head and waved her over. Kirilee seemed to consider a moment. C'mon, sweetheart, Isaac urged mentally, let's get going here. To his relief, she pushed herself to standing and rushed over to him.

Finished with niceties, he swept the girl into his arms and hauled ass away from the doors. He came to where he'd left Xandra, but the girl's mother was nowhere to be found. Where the fuck did she go? Kirilee wiggled and squirmed in his arms, pushing with her palms against him, and he figured she wanted to walk beside him. When he set down Kirilee, he heard a grunt and stars burst white in his vision as blackness and pain coaxed him into unconsciousness.

"Get up, Isaac," Nicole whispered. "Get up. You can't pass out here."

Ugh…the hell…? He revived with his cheek flat on cool tile, the taste of copper in his mouth, and a splitting headache. When he shifted, the headache worsened, queasiness churned his stomach, but he'd been hurt badly before and had continued on. Slowly, agonizingly, he sat up, touched a couple fingers to where heat burned his scalp. Blood. His hand crunched something on the floor; then as he looked for his plasma cutter, he realized it'd been taken. The dark corridor was empty, and as he hoisted up his dizzied ass, he saw the daycare was free and clear of corpses…and slashers.

Staggering into the corridor, Isaac's throbbing brain remembered how the potted plants had been paired- -and the first set was missing one. He made the connection. Xandra must've seen his face, which galvanized her into action, and had waited for him with a plant to knock him out. But had she gotten to the shuttle safely? He engaged his visor, continuing to use the wall as support as he moved through the corridor.

"Alice? Maheer?" His mouth was dry. "Do you copy?"

"We copy. Maheer's group made it up safe and sound," Alice replied immediately. "We were thi-"

"Have Xandra and Kirilee gotten aboard?"

"What? No," she said. "Why?"

He hesitated as he formulated a lie. "I was hit hard and knocked out. Xandra took Kirilee and my cutter. I was hoping they'd made it to you," he said. "If they do, don't wait for me." But slasher roars suddenly erupted from the lobby, drowning out Alice's reply. "Do you copy? If they get aboard, don't wait for me. Leave immediately!"

He cut the feed. A woman's scream pierced the air, coupled with the sharp report of a plasma cutter. Isaac forced his legs into a run, and was about halfway to the lobby when a flashlight beam skittered across the mouth of the corridor. Xandra charged forward, towards him, her arms full of Kirilee and a half-dozen slashers hot on her ass. Isaac didn't think. He used TK to pick up one of the benches and blast it into the crowd of slashers, knocking them back and giving Xandra breathing room.

She closed in on him, but the slashers were agile and continued charging. He continued to TK benches, and then potted plants, into the Necromorphs, those better than nothing until Xandra was within arm's reach. Her hands relinquished the plasma cutter when he yanked it from her and slotted in a fresh plasma cartridge. The slashers came forward, wave after wave, but with the use of his kinesis and strategy, he held them off until eventually they were a bloody, dismembered mess scattered in the hall.

Silence descended upon them. Inside his helmet, Isaac's breathing was harsh and rapid. Xandra and Kirilee had waited behind him, so he turned to address them. Xandra's face was white and sweaty. She'd put down Kirilee, holding her small hand, and over Xandra's shoulders, blades arched up.

"GET DOWN!" he shouted, but too late.

In a horrendous clarity, those blades descended, skewering Xandra like chicken on a spit. One burst from her chest; another, from her stomach. She twitched, blood spraying from her mouth, and he took action. He put them both in stasis and stepped forward to shove Kirilee aside. Then he got in nice and close to that fucking slasher and clipped those damn limbs. By the time stasis wore off, Isaac had prepared his arms to receive Xandra.

She fell, a gentle feather, and he guided her to the floor of that horrible place, the blood pouring from her body. Unable to do anything for her except be with her, he disengaged his helmet and pressed his hand to her chest wound in a futile effort to staunch the blood flow. The heat of her blood seeped into his glove as she rested her hand on his. He used his other hand to pillow her head.

"I-I'm," she gurgled, blood running like syrup down her chin and cheeks, mixed with tears, "I-Isaac, I'm," she struggled for one more breath, "I'm-"

"Sh-sh. Save your energy," he told her. He glanced to the side where Kirilee remained huddled on the floor, the teddy clutched in the circle of her arms. "Kirilee, come here!"

The little girl, maybe understanding the situation or maybe understanding Isaac's tone, stirred and shuffled over. Kirilee plopped to her knees at her mother's side, and Xandra's hand blindly groped Kirilee until by chance, she found a small hand she could clutch.

"K-K-K," Xandra stuttered, terrible burbles and gushes of blood interrupting her, "Kiri. I love you."

Her wide, glazed eyes bobbled to him, a question and a plea there. _Will you…?_ He nodded his head. "I'll keep her safe."

That seemed to release her from earthly bonds. Her body expelled air in a pneumonic bubbling as her eyes rolled back in her head. And then her arm went limp, flopping from Kirilee's hand to the floor. The piercing tone of the RIG flat-lining disturbed the quiet. After a few seconds, it stopped. Isaac sat at the woman's side, numbed by the experience, completely lost for action, until Kirilee tilted her head to him and said, in a voice that he reckoned cherubs spoke with, "Isaac? Is Momma dead?"

Somehow that was a powerful shot to his chest- -to his heart, and the ache was enough to startle him into rubbing the spot. "Yeah," he said to her, "she's dead."

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**A/N:** Truth be told, I misted up a bit writing that last little part. As always, I welcome your comments and concerns. I'll see you next week on 11/10/12. Until then!


	15. Back in Business

**A/N: **Welcome back, readers & lurkers. A big thank you to all of you who are secretly supporting the story. I'm very glad to see you every week! Please, enjoy.

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**Chapter Fifteen: Back in Business**

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Isaac's hand rubbed over the medallion under the sec-suit. The ache of Kirilee's loss, though pronounced, receded- -he did not have time for regret, not with an entire station of Necromorphs closing in around him. Briefly, he debated using his precious ammo to dismember Xandra's body. He needed to conserve the plasma, but he didn't want Xandra transforming into anything that would further traumatize Kirilee down the line. However, shooting off the dead woman's limbs seemed sacrilege.

In his moment of hesitation, Kirilee had stood and stepped around her mother's body. Her small hand gripped the inside of his left elbow. "Don't let her be a monster."

Isaac glanced at her. "You're sure? I'll have to…" He struggled for a word gentler than 'dismember', 'sever', or 'chop'.

There was no need to articulate. The girl nodded and clutched the teddy closer. He stood as well, knees popping, back and head whining, and in a few efficient bursts of plasma, severed Xandra's arms and legs. Blood had splattered on Kiri's shoes and the girl stared at her mother's remains, dazed and silent. Without waiting for her response, Isaac hoisted her into his arms and moved around the mangled and destroyed slashers to the hall's opening at the lobby. There he paused long enough to peer around the corner.

Quiet. Slowly he eased around into the lobby, eyes watching the shadows carefully. He'd progressed to about halfway across the deserted lobby when several babies cried, denoting the presence of crawlers. Yellow blobs appeared on the wall to his left; chubby arms and legs with bald heads the only sign that these Necromorphs had been newborns. Isaac dispatched one and waited patiently for the grouping of five to catch up before detonating the infected bubble. It exploded the other crawlers, silencing the cries of dead babies.

Nothing further hindered his movement. They made it to the elevators without further incident, but as Isaac called the elevator, his RIG opened a hololink of Noah. Sweat dampened the boy's collar and shone on his face over the dirt, and the pacing of his breath was quick, labored. Sometime he'd cleaned and put a patch over the wound on his brow.

"Isaac," Noah said, "I'm in some…called the G…, do you…" Static shot through his words. "…I re…t, the Grand…" He glanced over his shoulder as the signal continued to die until it interrupted the signal completely and cut off the link.

Shit. Immediately, Isaac dialed Ellie's RIG, but couldn't reach her through audio or hololink, so when the elevator doors parted, he checked to make sure Kiri was secure at his knee (she clung to his leg) before displaying the keyboard and typing up a message to send to her and Greggs. He wondered if they were in the Commons, or if they had escaped to an area that was safer. Or if they had succumbed to the madness.

Now that he thought of it, Ellie had not shown any signs of madness on Titan, which left Isaac certain that she was immune to it. But since the last few transmissions from her were cluttered with what he interpreted as signs of madness in her, he couldn't be sure. Greggs was another concern. He'd never experienced an outbreak before, and so whether or not he was immune to the Marker's effects would show here; however, like Ellie, the last few transmissions from Greggs had Isaac thinking that the madness affected him.

Or…the Marker was messing with his head, forcing Isaac to see and think things that didn't really exist or were opposite of the truth.

He couldn't be sure either way until he saw them and spoke with them face-to-face. At least some good news was that Noah had a fix on his own location. After the long ride to the top of the tower, the elevator doors opened to a junction, arrows and labels indicating different shuttle docks. Emergency power was on, but candles had been lit, much like the apartment complex he'd come through, and a horrific splash of blood had congealed on the floor in front of him. A couple stacks of heavy steel cases were stacked in front of a door. Litter was strewn about, bins, and a shoe were left behind in the confusion. Darkness had set in further along the connecting tubes running from the elevator.

"Are we there yet?" asked Kiri. Her one arm was around his neck, the other clung to the teddy. "I don't like it here."

If his orientation was correct, the shuttle was down the tube to the right. "Yeah, we're there."

He swung around the open junction into the correct connecting tube toward the waiting shuttle, the door unlocked and open. Jogging along the metal walk, Isaac's brain generated a thousand complications that would prevent him from getting Kiri on the shuttle, or prevent the shuttle from leaving, or everything would be fine but the shuttle would explode upon departure. His stomach wobbled around inside him, with the added joy of clammy palms.

When he opened a door with the Rhea logo, a shuttle ID number, and the company, he couldn't believe how smooth it'd gone. Grace was right inside the door. Her smile was big, relieved, and she reached her arms for Kirilee. Grateful, Isaac relinquished the girl, choosing to go the bow and check on Alice, and not surprisingly, Maheer. Their fingers flew over the consoles in front of them, prepping the shuttle for launch.

"Glad you could join us. Everyone on board?" Alice asked from her station.

Isaac came up behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder. "I found Kirilee, but Xandra didn't make it. I'll help everyone strap in and then I'll leave you to your escape."

"Not so fast, buster," Alice said, turning from the console. Isaac dropped his hand and gave her a margin of space, tensing when she hefted her pulse rifle as well. "What do you mean, 'Xandra didn't make it'?"

The threat was unspoken, but the chill of her words had him sizing her up. He could wrestle the pulse rifle from her hands if he had to, but Maheer was another story. Under the overalls, Isaac could see the solid form of muscles and strength bred from mining; Isaac would not bring him down so easily. One wrong word, Alice and Maheer could annihilate him in this close range if they so chose. That didn't stop Isaac from formulating a brief plan of action: put both in stasis and get the hell off the shuttle. They hadn't released from the airlock, yet, so he still could escape.

"I was knocked around hard. Xandra took Kirilee and tried to make here, but got cut off by Necromorphs. She fought them," Isaac said, "and I tried to make it to her in time…a slasher got her first."

"You didn't kill her?" Alice asked, her eyes flinty.

It was then Isaac knew. Alice must've deduced his identity and was questioning his ethos- -did Xandra discover his identity and had he killed her to keep her quiet? He had no way of proving that he _didn't _kill Xandra, except for Kirilee, who may not be a reliable witness. And before he could block her arm or flinch away, Alice struck out with her hand to mash the button that disengaged his helmet. He'd felt shy of people, but never as though he was standing naked in front of them. His first reaction was to slide back a few more steps and tense for their reaction. Maheer and Alice gazed at him.

"Xandra died from a slasher attack," Isaac told them simply. "I promised her to keep Kirilee safe."

A long, measuring moment passed as Alice and Maheer continued staring, and the longer he stood under their scrutiny, the less the fear affected him. He knew what fear was, terror in a cold, dark ship, in a station loaded to brimming with death and evil power, and if Alice and Maheer were to kill him, he could think of worse ways to die.

Alice nodded her head. "I had a hunch it was you. Your RIG not showing your name, your ease with the death and those…Necromorphs. Not all of it fit, though. Saving us, for one thing," she continued, lowering the pulse rifle, "and the blatant way you addressed Director Daniels. Were you and that guy Stross responsible for Titan?"

Maheer said nothing, but stood gazing at Isaac with a mix of awe and surprise. Neither of them seemed wary or suspicious. Isaac relaxed marginally. "Indirectly, we were," he told them. "We both had something in our brains that contributed to the construction of something called a Marker."

"Aaah," said Maheer, "I've heard from Unitologists about that. Holy Convergence, or something similar?"

"EarthGov and Unitology want the Marker for its power, so Markers are reversed engineered from people who've been…exposed. All the death on Titan…it was from a Marker. All the death here…" He trailed off suggestively.

"From a Marker," Alice finished. Her next comment was cold, bitter, sarcastic. "But you're a terrorist who is delusional and tells exceptionally persuasive lies. How do we ever believe you?"

Grace came to the cockpit, then. "What's the hold…ohmi_god_."

Isaac caught her when she half-wheeled around to shout his name to the other passengers on the shuttle, clamping his hand over her mouth to silence her. "I'm getting off here. You don't have to be afraid."

Her face blanched, eyes widened, and Isaac watched as Grace darted a look over his shoulder to Maheer and Alice, who did not respond as if there was danger. Grace breathed, apparently to diminish her fear, and finally she mumbled something on the other side of his hand. Tentatively, Isaac released her mouth, expecting her to scream bloody murder. She didn't. Instead, her lips trembled and she didn't seem to be able to voice her thoughts.

"What're you…what're you doing here?" she whispered to him. "Are you going…to k-kill us?"

"No," he said, quietly. "I didn't mean to alarm you. I'm on the station for another purpose, but mainly to catch up to and keep alive a child of a friend. And then," he continued, his grim purpose threading steel in his tone, "I'm going to kill the Marker that's taken hold here."

"But…earlier…you said all those terrible things…" Grace said. She pressed flat against the metal wall of the cockpit and looked like she wanted to seep through. "You caused a panic…people fled…"

He sighed. "I wanted to get as many people off the station as I could before the Marker became active. The only way I could think of to do that was to scare everyone. So I did."

"Marker…? What Marker?"

"Grace," he said, "it's a long, terrible tale and we don't have time to discuss it."

She seemed to come back to herself. "I just don't understand. EarthGov said you were a terrorist who _causes _these disasters. That you…that you murder people for the fun of it! I can't see how you're a terrorist," she said and her eyes searched his. "You'd have left us to die in that clinic! You'd have killed us already without trying to save us."

"We were discussing how decidedly un-terrorist Mr. Clarke here actually is," said Alice, "and arguing with him about his leaving the shuttle."

"You haven't changed your mind?" Grace asked. "How do you expect to survive all by yourself?"

Isaac shrugged. "I've had a lot of practice. C'mon. I'll help strap you in and check the other harnesses. Then, I'll be off."

"Wait! Where is it you need to go? Maybe we can drop you off," she said, looking over at Alice and Maheer with a plea between her eyebrows. "Do you think you could do that?"

Maheer and Alice exchanged a glance. Then Alice said, "It would depend on where the drop-off would be. You have a particular place in mind, Mr. Clarke?"

"I couldn't…" Isaac began modestly.

"Nonsense. We've survived longer with you than without you," Alice said. "Where do you need to go?"

His first instinct was to tell her the Grand, mainly because that's where Noah seemed to believe he was. The kid had so far seemed to be able to survive on his own, and the madness didn't seem to affect him yet. But it had Greggs. Ellie's last transmission, her screaming and the tears choking the words…clenched his heart in his chest. Isaac had promised Delilah to bring back Noah, but Ellie…she was what mattered to him.

"How about the Japanese Commons?" he asked. "That's where I was separated from two others."

"I think we'll be able to take you there." Alice leaned the pulse rifle to the side. She spoke over her shoulder. "In fact, I know there's an airlock topside of the temple. You should be able to get in through there, no problem."

"I'll check on the others," Isaac said. "You go ahead and begin the flight."

He engaged his helmet because even though Alice, Maheer, and Grace accepted him as a fairly peaceable person, he couldn't say the same for the others, particularly Walter Klein. Toward the center and back of the shuttle were orange passenger seats. The men and women who were left had already taken a seat, Grace among them. They all had pulled down the harnesses, securing them in place with star-like buckles, and had looked on grimly, vacantly, as he checked their harnesses. Everyone was strapped in nice and tight, even Kiri and her teddy that she'd not let go and was strapped in with her.

"Thank you," she said and smiled at him.

Though his visor was engaged, she induced him to smile back at her and playfully cluck under her chin. She giggled and swung her legs, which were too short to touch the floor. Lights went on in the cabin, and a serene woman's voice announced that the ship had departed the airlock, all passengers are to remain seated. Isaac felt the movement of the shuttle as he crossed back into the cockpit to watch out the forward windshield.

The station continued to be subdued and, ultimately, quiet. Several places had metal and steel rendered in a twisted, torn mass, impassible from the ground, and he noticed that there were instances of gaping holes in the very roofs of the buildings, much like the huge pit they'd skirted in the courtyard prior to entering Financial Incorporated. Overall, the flight was smooth, but Isaac's gut vibrated with anxiety at each turn, dip, and pass. After about five or so minutes, a familiar-looking structure came into view…a tall tower with many tiers that soared out of an enclosed and damaged base.

"There're the Commons," said Alice, unnecessarily. "See that top tier? That's where the airlocks are located."

Isaac remained silent, until his audiolink crackled alive. "Isaac? Do you copy me?"

Ellie. "Yeah," he responded instantly. "I copy you! Are you all right?"

Some heavy breathing. "I'm fine, but Greggs…he's…just get here. I'm sending coordinates now." And his RIG ticked with them. "Please, hurry, Isaac."

Alice swooped the shuttle around the temple's corners, spiraling upwards to the crested top. As she aligned with an airlock manually, the shuttle's voice announced the proper procedures for departing the shuttle. Alice and Maheer stepped from the controls, and with friendly smiles, extended their hands in a goodbye shake.

"Best of luck, Mr. Clarke," Alice said, and released his hand.

Maheer shook his hand next. "Your help is greatly appreciated. Good luck."

"Thank you, and good luck to each of you," he replied. They followed him back to the airlock midway between the cockpit and the passenger seats. Before he engaged the hatch, he waved goodbye to the group. Grace and Kiri waved vigorously, and the others called out their farewells and good wishes. "Goodbye, everyone. Be safe."

The airlock had engaged, and so the hatch opened for him so he could step through. Maheer closed and locked it shut. Then Isaac continued through the very short passage to another heavy-duty door, which was unlocked into another chamber with a breathtaking panorama of the surrounding station. Across the distance, between towers and other building-tops, the dome of the Rhea Arboretum glittered under the shine of reflected sunlight. The shuttle crossed in front of him, he saw Maheer and Alice at the helm, and they eased it around, engaging the thrusters which reacted with white-hot bursts.

Sharp pain soared behind his eye.

They had a straight shot out of the station's airspace, and Isaac waited, his anxiety not yet abated, as the shuttle crossed into free space. Long moments passed. It looked like they would make it. In fact, they had cleared the Rhea cityscape…but his peripheral vision picked up something long, fleshy and gigantic. It slithered between the snaggle-tooth structures, extending outwards, and in a mighty lash, noosed the shuttle in a loop of muscle and sinewy strength. The movement of the tentacle reverberated through the station's foundation, shaking the floor under his feet.

His stomach dropped into a pit.

"NOOOO!" Isaac screamed. He'd forgotten about that Necromorph. That wasn't true. Hope had diminished the fear of it. "GODDAMMIT, NO!"

He rushed to a window and pounded on it, logic lost under frantic energy, his heart shrieking at him to fucking _do something_. The tentacle didn't relinquish its grip. Instead, the muscles bunched together, and even from the distance that he watched, helpless, he could see the shuttle's metal frame give way, could imagine the crunch and whine, the sirens and warnings going off, little Kirilee's frightened face, Grace's terrified eyes, vacuum interrupting, sucking at the airflow, but then the tentacle compressed too hard and an explosion lit up the skyline from the fuel stored and used by shuttles.

Isaac physically felt the lives of those passengers extinguish. A blow to his very core, his soul, punched a hole clean through him.

With the explosion, the tentacle recoiled and left pieces of shattered metal debris floating harmlessly right outside the station's limits. A sudden rage erupted inside him, boiling, whirling, wild. Loose bins and luggage were scattered around the area. In a nasty fit that blinded him, Isaac slammed and kicked and destroyed and cursed anything and everything that he could lay hands on. He'd spontaneously combust if he was didn't enact his fury.

The racket was monstrous, would probably attract Necromorphs far and wide, but he didn't give a good goddamn. Nothing assuaged the hot anger at himself, at the Markers, at Unitology, at EarthGov. It was so fucking useless. _He _was fucking useless, and with that acknowledgement, his strength drained, a haze of dizziness veiled his vision, and he weakly sank to his knees. Shaking from bitterness, his eyes prickling with a sensation he hadn't felt since he was thirteen and furious at Octavia, he panted for air.

The weakness dragged him to the floor where he curled, deadened and numb from emotion. What was the point of this anymore?

He couldn't save _anyone._ He hadn't been able to save Nicole, Hammond, even Kendra…who had betrayed him. He hadn't saved Stross or the thousands of other lives on the Sprawl. Ellie was the one person he'd saved out of how many people? But instead of being _away_, she was in danger again, and he may not be able to save her from this place. It was all futile. Just so fucking futile.

"Stop it," Nicole told him. She crouched at his side and thumbed the button to his visor. "This isn't like you."

He shrugged off her comforting hand. "Leave me alone. You're not real."

Her slap surprised him. It stung across his cheek, and when he looked at her, stunned, she treated him to another one on top of the first. He was quite speechless as the slaps continued to burn his skin with very real sensation.

"Don't you dare, Isaac Poul Clarke. Don't you _dare _be weak," she told him, crossly. The palm of her hand landed on his chest and pressed the St. Christopher medallion into his breastbone. Startled with her vehemence, he laid his hand over hers. "They were victims of the Marker, just as you were. Add them to the list of innocents who've perished to greed and power-mongering," she told him, her voice richening, strengthening in anger, "and you don't despair. You cannot despair. You are our vengeance, Isaac, our instrument of justice."

Like her voice, a golden strength spread inside him, disintegrating the cold lifelessness that had cloaked him after the shuttle's destruction. As in a dream, the temple floor opened and expanded to accommodate many vaporous bodies that glowed with soft light and color. Beside Nicole, he saw Kiri with her teddy bear, Grace, Alice, Maheer, the others he'd recognized from the surviving group. Their eyes were not dead yet, but alive, and did not glint in hate or scorn, but with understanding and empathy. The hair lifted on his body.

"We do not blame you for what you perceive as failure. You are as much a victim as we are, but you are empowered." Nicole grasped him by the shoulders and hoisted him to his feet with suprising strength. "The Marker made a mistake in trying to take you. It gave you some of its power by accident, and it is up to you to turn that power into a weapon capable of defeating both the Marker and those hungry for the destruction found in that artifact." Then she leaned and swiped his cutter from the floor and shoved it in his hands. "We will not let you falter. We will not let you be weak."

And Nicole's ghost glimmered in white, blinding light, diminishing until he was left standing in the middle of a room by himself, his heart palpitating in his chest. She was right. Those deaths should not mar his conscience. If anything, it redoubled his desire to make those responsible pay for their sins. Millicent Daniels was first on his list of the sinners.

Collected again, he felt normal, refreshed, and more than before, determined. He held out his palm and activated the waypoint, which led him across the floor to a side-hall where there was a working elevator. It opened into a long hall with many doors, and he noticed, what looked like fish tanks lining the wall. Fluid had thickened and become syrupy, with the yellow blobs wriggling around, waiting to pop at a moment's notice. He could probably charge down the hallway, moving quickly enough to avoid disrupting the explosive infections.

There was nothing around to TK in order to trigger the explosions, so he checked his waypoint- -yep, he was on the right path- -and backed up against the closed elevator doors, putting one foot out in preparation to jump into a sprint down the hall. This was stupid, he knew it was, but he didn't have time to go rummaging around, and as he finally screwed up the courage, shifting his weight forward, someone slammed into him.

"_Wait!_" the body said, arms trapping Isaac to the wall. "Wait. That's suicide."

He struggled, readying his cutter to deal some damage, when his brain comprehended who'd pinned him to the wall with surprising strength: an eighty year-old senior that stood at Isaac's shoulder. The man was well wrinkled, completely bald, with a wispy white mustache and beard, his uniform rumpled with dirt and blood spots. His lively eyes were folded in pronounced crow's feet.

"Out of my way. I don't have time for a prolonged side-route," Isaac replied.

"I know you're here for that nice-looking young lady and the fellow she's with," said the old man. "I know where they are. I can take you to them. Or," he amended, "to her. She's had trouble with the fellow for some time."

"As long as the route is direct, lead on."

The older man bowed. "Wonderful. I hope you don't mind getting a bit dirty," he told Isaac as he took a few steps aside to the first doorway in the hall, "since the best way of moving about is through the maintenance vents." He keyed into the room. A spacious living quarter greeted Isaac, but it was in disarray, with items knocked over or strewn on the floor. In the far corner was the red hatch for maintenance, which the elderly man opened with a swipe of his hand. "Haruhi mentioned that I'd meet you today if I stayed put. Good thing I did," he continued, his voice muffled as he entered the vent, "or else you would've been a colorful smear on the wall, running recklessly past all those poppers."

Isaac remained silent, concentrating on crawling behind the older man, who had the stamina and endurance of a much younger marine. Their path in the ducts took interminable minutes, with quite a few turns and junctions, until the older man deigned to exit and Isaac had no clue as to their current location inside the temple.

"Now," the other said, hustling to the door in the darkened room, "we have another elevator that will take us to where we need to be."

The cutter's flashlight guided them through a maze of another several corridors to a second elevator, which opened and they stepped in. "I'm supposing you're wondering who I am," said the man, interrupting his constant flow of conversation with something useful, "I'm Kobayashi Eri. Eri's my first name," he continued brightly, "but I prefer being called Kobi. Haruhi thought being called Kobi took away from my dignity, but she couldn't convince others of it. I do miss my dear Haruhi." Kobi continued on this thread for several more minutes until the elevator doors opened to the main lobby. Isaac pinpointed the spot where he'd been swept off his feet into outer space by a malcontented tentacle. "…my work here as Curator and Head of Maintenance. In other words, a glorified custodian. The security office is just this way, Mr. Clarke."

Isaac stopped in his tracks. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, don't be worried," Kobi said, continuing on as if nothing unusual had happened and in fact, Isaac had to continue walking behind the man as he didn't pause the flow of conversation, "Haruhi told me about you as soon as your face came up on the emergency broadcast system. She said you were on a noble mission and that you needed someone who had roots in the earth to help guide you. That Marker is a terrible thing," he said, coming to a halt at a door labeled Security. "Here we are. I'll allow you to do the honors."

Isaac didn't argue. He opened the door. Ellie was there, hunched over some live holoscreens at a console. His entry snapped her head up the same time her arm snapped for her plasma cutter; startled surprise and then recognition crossed her features.

"Thank God, it's you!" she said.

Simultaneously, they closed in towards each other, throwing their arms around each other, and extended the greeting with a searing, deep kiss. She was familiar and soft, her taste spreading across his tongue, her presence seeping into his muscles and bones. All the emotion he'd clenched and locked up burst free under the relief of seeing Ellie's face, of her hands on the back of his neck. Their embrace was awkward- -the sec-suit's protrusions made it difficult- -but they managed. Ellie laughed when he picked her up.

After an indulgent couple moments, they came down from their relief high. Isaac stepped back to _see _her. She was balm to his wrecked soul. "So what's going on with Greggs?"

"Here, look for yourself." She gestured to a vidscreen, so Isaac leaned in. The picture was grainy, due to lack of power, and black and white, but he saw a figure huddled on a bare floor, knees drawn up to his chest. "I took your advice and separated him from the contact beam and managed to get him isolated. He hadn't attacked me yet, but he was like Stross…very twitchy."

* * *

**A/N:** I hope you enjoyed. See you on Nov. 17th!


	16. Catacombs

**A/N:** Welcome back, dear readers and lurkers. I hope you're enjoying your November so far. Thank you, as always, for supporting this story with your many views and comments!

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**Chapter Sixteen: Catacombs**

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Greggs' figure huddled in a corner on the barren floor. Just that sight, of a perfectly healthy, funny, intelligent man reduced to despondency, caused numbness to vibrate through Isaac's nerves even after the wave of relief he'd felt after seeing Ellie alive and well. He hadn't been able to save Maheer or Alice or Kiri or Grace or (now, it seemed) Greggs…stop. Stop it.

"The Marker is responsible. I don't know if we can continue to have him with us," Isaac said. He struggled with the strangulating, nauseating sense of uselessness, found it difficult to overpower. "He's not like you or I. He'd get worse and worse until he snapped and maybe do worse to us than Stross did."

Ellie's brow crunched. "But you have to try _something_. We can't leave him here, alone and abandoned!"

"She is right," Kobi chimed in from the entry. "You _can_ try something."

"His name's Kobi. I picked him up in the upper levels of the temple," Isaac said to Ellie when she gazed over- -a bit crossly with his interruption, Isaac noticed- -at the elderly man. He spoke over his shoulder to Kobi. "Kobi, this is Ellie Langford. She was with me on the Sprawl."

Kobi moved forward, undeterred. "He can be saved from whatever is eating at him."

"Right. Of course. We can hold hands in a circle and sing nursery rhymes to him," said Isaac, exasperated. Never in his experience had he seen anyone or anything reverse the effects of the Marker signal. Once madness took hold, people committed suicide or killed until _they _were killed. That was the pattern that had not been broken.

Kobi smiled, his face crinkling in a million folds, and was close enough to frame Isaac's face with papery hands. "Believe that you are extraordinary. What the Marker creates, you can destroy. What the Marker claims, you can _take back._"

"Did Haruhi tell you this?" Yeah, still snarky for losing Greggs to the madness; also there was a measure of grief left over from losing the other survivors.

"Yes," Kobi replied, not offended, "and Miss Brennan was with her when she did."

Isaac's throat got very dry. "If that's so, why hasn't Nicole told _me _about it?"

"You were not in a position to listen to her at the time. I will be happy to assist you. We should hurry," Kobi continued, removing his hands from Isaac's face after a fatherly pat, "because once the madness gets in too deep, it will be irreversible."

Kobi walked off, leaving Isaac staring after him with Ellie at his side. She stirred and said, "He's an odd duck. Is he really suggesting you can reverse the Marker's madness in a person?"

"Apparently so."

He gestured her first through the doorway, and he heard her murmur, as she passed by him, "That's insane."

The security office was down a longish, narrow hall with several doors, all of which were unlocked, except one that Isaac assumed Ellie had hacked to lock and unlock at will from the pad outside. Kobi and Isaac waited for Ellie to type in the passcode, and when she did the door flew up. Inside, she'd cleared the room of any miscellaneous debris. Greggs continued to sit on the floor in a corner, knees pulled into his chest, rocking and mumbling incoherently, yet loud enough to be heard from the doorway.

Stepping into the room was a bit like nearing the Marker as it powered up for Convergence. An indescribable type of frequency buzzed the air, washing Isaac in uncertainty and doubt. How could Kobi believe Isaac could reverse the madness? No one had ever come out of the hallucinations and violence that were the symptoms of madness. And, furthermore, for all the time he'd spent around Stross, there had not been one iota of difference in the man's behavior if Isaac had been around or not.

Greggs did not move, save for rocking and rapid blinking as Kobi and Isaac approached, slowly and with much caution. Sweat beaded Greggs' face, plastered his brown bangs to his forehead, and his eyes darted endlessly around the room, lips sequencing words together that were incomprehensible to Isaac's ears. Greggs made no indication that he heard or saw them in the room.

As they tiptoed over, Kobi said, "Have you ever been in a trance before?"

"Not that I recall."

"Ah." Nothing further, not until they stood on either side of Greggs. "Here. Talk to him. As you are doing so, help me to stretch him out on the floor."

"Talk to him? How?"

Kobi smiled as he crouched. "As if you were having a conversation with him."

Talk to him. Sing him a nursery rhyme. Whatever. But Greggs had saved Ellie and had been a loyal friend when Isaac needed one most. Uncomfortable, Isaac cleared his throat and decided what to say as he, too, crouched at Greggs' side.

"Well, Doc, I'm back. I had some trouble in Water Processing with some stalkers. One of them nailed me pretty good." He glanced nervously over at Kobi, who nodded encouragingly. As he continued speaking, he helped Kobi unfurl Greggs and spread him to the cold floor. "I wasn't able to get much past Filtration. There was corruption growing all over the place and blocked the elevator going up to Sedimentation. I had to use a homemade flamethrower to burn it off the ceiling so I could drain the pools."

Greggs' muttering had quieted, his twitching diminished, but Kobi circled his finger in the air in a signal to continue on. "I got into the water main and was making good time when one of those giant tentacles threw me off track again. I landed in the business sector…and this is funny…in CEC Human Resources. There was actually a group of survivors being attacked by Necromorphs. I ended up saving them. I think you would've liked Alice," Isaac continued, putting his hand on Greggs' feverish forehead, not yet committed to the idea that this method could possibly work. "She was this brave, selfless, stern woman. She reminded me of Cpt. Samson, actually. You wouldn't believe how she wielded a pulse rifle. Then there was Maheer, who had been a sec-officer before switching to mining operations. We also had Will. Twelve people in all were trapped in an emergency clinic there."

He stopped the narrative to sit more comfortably on the floor and saw Greggs' eyes focused on him, lucid, and the conversation felt more received than it had been. "I couldn't open the door manually, so I told the group to look for a maintenance hatch. Once they found that, I circled around for the connecting vent. They got out all right, but we were lacking a shuttle, which we eventually found at the top of the Financial Incorporated tower. We had to get out of HR, through a courtyard, and up the building. And the power was out, so not even the elevators were working, even if I _had _replaced a power cell."

"You had to take the stairs," Greggs whispered.

Masking his surprise, Isaac continued with a nod. "Yeah. Even emergency power was out in the stairwell. The Necromorphs had waited for it. We were attacked on the stairwell and lost four people, including Will." Greggs rolled up his shoulders, attempting and failing to sit up, so Kobi and Isaac helped him upright. "But we made it to the lobby. The courtyard was pretty messed up. Dead bodies everywhere, land torn up. I could feel something bad might happen, but the most direct path to the shuttle was through the courtyard. We ended up splitting into three groups…myself in one group, Alice in another, and then Maheer. My group and Alice's made it across all right, but when Maheer's group got about halfway, an infector dropped from the ceiling."

"An infector?" asked Greggs. His color, blanched before, had returned. "Sounds freaky."

"Oh, yeah," Isaac said. "Maheer's group made it inside right before slashers started rising up. Then we managed to get to a working elevator and up to the shuttle at the top of the tower. They dropped me off here as they flew off Rhea." He'd purposely left out looking for Kirilee and the subsequent shuttle destruction.

Greggs weakly laughed. "See? I told you that you were a superhero." He then seemed to notice Kobi on his other side and extended a friendly hand. "I'm Jeremy Greggs."

"A pleasure. Kobayashi Eri, Kobi to my friends," replied Kobi, shaking Greggs' hand. "And welcome back."

"Now that we're all familiar," interrupted Ellie from her post at the door, "can we get out of here?"

"Think you're up for it?" Isaac asked of Greggs.

Greggs nodded after a moment of quick introspection. "I'm a little shaky and have this huge headache, but my mind's clear. I don't…I don't know what came over me."

"The Marker tried to take you. If you feel it creeping in on you, let us know. I'm not sure how this even worked," Isaac told him, "so I can't tell you if it's permanent."

"I see. And thanks," Greggs said. He brushed the temple of his head with his hand. "You could've left me."

Isaac adjusted his weight, glancing across the room to Ellie. "No. Not you," he replied, simply. Then to Kobi, "You're coming with us?"

"Certainly. I know a shortcut to the Grand, if you are interested," replied Kobi. He stood from his crouch and helped Isaac in hoisting up Greggs by the armpits. "There are catacombs underneath Rhea that riddle nearly the entire moon. The temple has one of the main entrances."

Disgust crossed Ellie's features. "Catacombs? Where they keep _dead people_?"

Isaac ignored the fact that Kobi knew their destination without having ever been informed. "You do realize that Necromorphs grow from dead bodies, right? The catacombs seem like a good way to die."

"No need for concern." Kobi waved away their comments, dismissed like an annoying fleck floating in the air. "The bodies are locked in their caskets, barred into solid rock, stabilized with mortar. It is perfectly safe, if not a little moist and noisy."

"The water mains and sewage systems run through there," Greggs elaborated when Isaac and Ellie exchanged another look. "Except for that, the tunnels are all interconnected. If one pathway is blocked, it would be easy to find another route without too much trouble."

A brief pause as three sets of eyes rested on Isaac, who considered their options. Going on the surface had proved dangerous and difficult already, with the power outages and rampant Necromorph activity. On the surface, though, they could catch a tram, but in his experience, a tram could be sidetracked easily. He'd been in a crypt before, too. That had gone somewhat smoothly, except for a few Necromorphs here and there, and fixing the offline gravitational stabilizer. Catacombs sounded suspiciously like mines, with loads of lifts, tight walkways, hanging catwalks, broken doors, and cave-ins; however, he had a decent guide in Kobi, who seemed able-bodied and willing to guide them.

"The catacombs," said Isaac. "I'll try and contact Noah. Kobi, is there a bench or a store nearby?"

Kobi nodded. "Indeed. There are both in the main lobby."

"Good. I'm going to gear you up. The three of you meet me at the store. If there's any ammo lying around, collect it. I'll be there in a few minutes. Oh, and one of you try to contact the Marker team."

Everyone nodded and agreed, but as Kobi and Greggs left the room, Ellie hung back. "So is Greggs…safe?"

"I don't know. He seems back to normal," said Isaac. "There's no way to tell except to give him some time."

"A superhero, hunh?" she asked, coming in close to look at him on the level.

He kept his face straight. "You know Greggs. He says strange things."

Her eyes narrowed, the green-brown and blue attempting to pierce through his bluff, but her face softened and she tilted her head up to kiss him. It was a quick thing, and when Greggs popped his head around the corner of the open door, saying, "Okay, you lovebirds, shake a leg!" Isaac's heart tripped in his chest as if he was a guilty teenager. Ellie's mouth twitched, but she turned and left him alone.

"I'll do the honors of linking with the Marker team," she said, and then disappeared around the corner of the door.

To his delight, Noah's RIG accepted the hololink and connected immediately. "Noah, are you at the Grand still?"

Noah was hunched in a darkened room, his face backlit with the hololink. A glassed-in bookshelf rose up behind him, with various knickknacks and some exceptionally rare paper books. That collection must be worth thousands of credits, since books had not been published in paper for a few hundred years, at least. Noah smiled, faintly. "Yeah, the Grand. You'll never guess where exactly."

Isaac lifted his brow. "You're not getting into trouble, are you?"

"As if this was worse trouble than I'm already _in_," he replied, gesturing. "I hacked the door to Director Daniels' quarters."

"No shit." Isaac's surprise was _that_ biting. "Anything interesting?"

Noah's head shook. "Not yet. I've just now reached her office"- -there was the soft scraping of something as Noah's shoulders moved- -"so I haven't had time to look thoroughly-" The wail of sirens cut off anything else Noah had to say.

"Get out of there!" Isaac shouted to Noah. "You'll have R-Sec all over you!"

The sirens attracted other types of unwanted guests as well, for over the klaxon alarms, Isaac could make out the guttural screaming of Necromorphs on the hunt. The hololink went out, and the desperate sense of urgency returned to Isaac in the guise of heightened blood pressure. He already predicted that when they got to the Grand, Noah would have moved on, but there was the chance that he'd hole up and stay safe there until Isaac and the others arrived.

Ellie, Greggs, and Kobi stood in a loose semi-circle at a store, and Isaac noticed the bench tucked in the corner to the left of the store. The lobby of the temple was a junction, like many other lobbies of many other buildings, with low lighting due to the power outage, corners cloaked with shadow. Greggs stood with his contact beam in his relaxed arms; Ellie, with her plasma cutter; and Kobi with…nothing.

"Were there any sec-suits in that office? I didn't check," Isaac asked of Ellie. She nodded. "Okay. You guys stock up on ammo, medicine, and stasis recharge. Buy a few power nodes if you can. I'll be right back."

The store probably would not have a schematic for a plasma cutter or other weapon for Kobi, but perhaps Isaac could salvage one from the sec-office. In the office, when he searched, were a few open lockers and inside one of the lockers, he recovered a RIG integrated with a TK and stasis module. Perfect. In another locker, he found a standard-issue pistol, plus a few spare clips. He returned with his loot, and within the next few minutes, armed and geared Kobi, much to the man's protest.

"I am a pacifist," Kobi said, refusing the pistol.

The refusal irked Isaac into churlishness. "I don't care if you're Mahatma fucking Ghandi. This is a Necromorph outbreak. You're taking the weapon."

Kobi accepted the pistol after Isaac's commentary. Quickly, Isaac explained what he'd learned from Noah and how their conversation ended. Noah's grasp on surviving seemed to fill the others with hope. Unfortunately, Ellie had been unable to raise a decent signal to contact the Marker team. They were either dead or alive and out of contact. Isaac betted on dead, even if he didn't want to.

His three were ready. Once the weapons were rechecked, visors engaged, and mental states adequately prepared, Kobi led them to an elevator in the far back of the initial lobby of the temple. So far, the Necromorphs had left them alone, particularly since the ones in the fish tanks were avoidable. Isaac had a feeling, as they descended further into the subterranean labyrinth under Rhea, that shit was about to get very, very real. The elevator brought them into an enclosed area with one door ahead of them- -Catacombs Entrance, the Japanese Commons Temple- -which needed a hacking.

On the other side of the door was a tunnel carved from the stone and mineral of Rhea, super-blasted with kinetic energy to smooth the roughness of the hewn stone. The tunnel was wide enough for them to walk two abreast, and tall enough for them to pass under the large pipes bolted into the ceiling with plenty of space. Maintenance must've been understaffed or underpaid as the pipes dripped, not quite gushing, but certainly inefficient from lack of care. Water pooled in a shallow skin that coated the path. Even the lighting was dodgy, flickering in and out, the pathway frequently pitch black in places. Lining the walkway on each side were smallish, rectangular plaques that were not, unsurprisingly, holographic. Actual metal had been hammered and polished and engraved with epitaphs of the dead. True to Kobi's word, Isaac did not notice any grave burst open from the inside. But they had only just stepped into the tunnels.

"Homey," Greggs said, his sense of irony not dampened by their environment. "This looks like a good time."

Ellie threw a friendly elbow into his ribs. "Har, har. You're such a comedian. Kobi, you know where you're going?"

"Oh, yes," the older man said. "There is a trolley that will halve our time, if you wish to take it. A lift will take us down to it, but the way will take some time to cover."

"Sounds like a reasonable risk," replied Isaac. He aimed his flashlight into the hole the tunnel extended into. "Let's not waste time."

Onward they went. Silence was what got to Isaac, a chilled eeriness broken by their echoing footfalls and the constant drip of water. A sense of timelessness scraped his nerves, a thick anticipation that they headed into the lair of something they hadn't yet seen or fought. Each step brought them closer, and it was when soft, childlike voices whispered to him that Isaac slowed and stopped. His eye hadn't messaged him in a while, but he realized it ached in a consistent, slow throb. A presence pushed at his consciousness, a weighted, ominous presence, a wraith of ancient, primordial evil that chanted and beckoned with a cold, deadened finger.

Kobi had continued a little further up the tunnel, but came back when Isaac didn't follow.

Beside him, Greggs stepped up, visor down, his hand cupping the back of his own head. "Do you sense it? Can you feel…that?"

"What is it?" Ellie said. She touched Isaac's shoulder and gasped as that touch had transferred the sensation. "Oh, God. I hear it. What is it?"

He knew, but didn't know. "I'm not sure," replied Isaac, softly. "The Marker warning us, maybe."

"Something is living down here," Nicole said to him over audio. "You'll have to go through it, not around."

Without further conversation, Isaac continued to follow Kobi deeper into the tunnels, with Greggs and Ellie keeping up behind them. The plaques continued to line the walls no matter the twists or turns they took, and he guessed the dead numbered in the thousands. Once in awhile they came to a junction where three other paths led off in other directions. Kobi, invariably, went into one of these tunnels, sometimes left, sometimes right, until Isaac's sense of direction was utterly screwed up.

It was when they'd stopped for a few minutes to rest in one of those similar tunnels when the old public announcement system crackled to life. A high-pitched series of beeps resounded throughout the tunnels, followed by a cultured, calm feminine voice.

"Attention all Rhea Station staff and citizens. Attention. A malfunction has occurred with the station's gravity core. Please secure yourself by following the instructions transferred to your RIG. Please remember to secure the harness to yourself before securing it to a family member. Technicians have been notified. Remain calm and do not attempt to move from your secured location. Five minutes until all sectors lose gravity. I repeat…" The message repeated once again.

Isaac realized it before the others. "We have to get the gravity back online. Most of the station will be inaccessible if we don't."

"You think you can fix it?" asked Greggs.

"Depends on the kind of damage to the core," Isaac replied. He didn't say that he thought the only way the core would go offline was if something massive had interrupted the stability rings' cycles over the core. It could be a growth of corruption- -in which case, it would be a simple solution- -or it could be a Necromorph of epic proportions. "Let's check it out, at least."

Then roars spread a ruckus through the undisturbed tunnel system. Son of a _bitch_. Of course those hellish creatures would show up now.

"We'll have to backtrack. The station's gravity core is down that direction," said Kobi, pointing. "It's not too far off."

Ellie gestured with her plasma cutter. "Think we can make it there before we're zero-g?"

"If we hurry."

"Let's move, then," Isaac said and trotted after Kobi's bobbing aqua RIG when he took the lead.

The PA kept them informed of their time left before the core went offline, but they arrived at the locked portal to Rhea's Gravity Core with a minute to spare. No Necromorphs had blocked their path or popped out of graves, vents, or side corridors, but their noise had gotten increasingly louder as they'd run to the Gravity Core. Isaac had ripped off the siding to a terminal, when some scuffling and ear-ringing howls erupted from the end of the corridor.

"Shit," said Geggs. Then, stating the obvious, "We've got company."

"Dear me," muttered Kobi from beside Isaac. "They do not sound pleased."

"Shut up, everyone," Isaac snapped, his fingers tingling from the electric shock because he hadn't been paying attention.

His heart thudding behind his ribcage, the heavy footfalls and prolonged snarls throbbing the air, did nothing to help him as he twisted wires in the terminal. For whatever reason, these wires were touchy, but Isaac managed them as the roars reached a crescendo right around the corner from them. Inside the group hustled, the door closing shut behind them, thankfully shutting out the sound of the oncoming Necromorphs. But it was a matter of time before those Necromorphs used other hidden passages to locate fresh meat.

In the moment of respite, Isaac felt the presence in this area of the catacombs the greatest. They had entered into a large, domed structure that was many meters high and wide. Corruption had coated everything with spongy, sticky tissue, especially the far wall. Under the tissue, brilliant blue light glowed throughout the chamber as the central core channeled gravity to all sectors. A panel located around the curve of the walkway glowed orange. An enormous pit- -called a well- -bowled out the chamber, ringed by the catwalk, and located in there was the enormous gravity core.

But that wasn't the only thing in the well. A massive blob of vicious red flesh had grown up and around the rings and the core- -a leviathan, if memory of the _Ishimura_ served- -and as they stood staring, open-mouthed, at it down below, the gravity cut completely off. The sec-suit compensated for the loss of gravity, but Kobi immediately floated from the catwalk. Greggs caught the back of Kobi's uniform to hold him in place like an eighty-year old human balloon.

"What's the plan, boss?" Greggs said over audio. "That's a pretty big thing down there."

"Yeah, and it's stopped the stabilizer rings. We'll cut the power to the core, kill it, and start up the core again."

Ellie hooked her hand on his elbow. "Isaac…you cannot be serious about confronting…_that_."

"Ye of little faith. I've got this in hand," he told her. "You cut the power to the core, and find some cover for yourself and those two. Things are about to get hairy in here."

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**A/N:** I know I've been posting regularly for the last three months, but I've decided to take a short break. I'll be posting the next chapter on Dec. 1st. I apologize in advance if this disappoints some of you, but I really need to iron out and write the last few chapters. We're about halfway through the story at this point. Please have a good, unstressed holiday. Until later! =)


	17. Gravity Core

A/N: Welcome back, everyone. I hope your holiday was restful and relaxing. Please enjoy this next chapter!

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**Chapter Seventeen: Gravity Core**

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"No, I don't think you understand," Ellie said. "Even _if _you kill that thing…how're you planning to get it out of the well?"

Isaac touched her shoulders. "One problem at a time. Go and cut the power to the core before the whole thing blows."

From behind her helmet, Isaac heard her annoyed huff, but she turned and did as he asked. On the other side of the well, he saw an enclosed monitoring room. He pointed as he spoke to Greggs. "See if there are any suits for Kobi in there," he said. "I don't want him floating off in case something happens."

Greggs nodded. "Copy that." And the doctor strode toward the monitoring room, towing Kobi weightlessly behind him, legs kicking toward the ceiling.

Isaac checked his cutter for an ammo count. With what he had, he should be able to quiet the leviathan. The zero-g would aid him in outmaneuvering the pronged feelers the thing sent out, and the blobs of condensed, explosive infection could be used to conserve his ammo if the situation called for it. Across the way, he saw Greggs and Kobi riffling around in the glassed-in room, and Ellie waved at him from the holopanel, which notified the technicians that the gravity core's power had been shut down, but that there was a malfunction to the automatic clamps. Before he leapt from safety on the catwalk to danger in the well, he waited for Ellie to join Greggs and Kobi.

She contacted him via the audiolink. "We've got active monitors here. I think we may be able to find a solution to getting that…growth…out of the well."

"That's good. I'll contact you when it's safe." Isaac flexed his fingers on the grip of his cutter. "Stay on your toes."

"Copy that. You too." Then they signed off.

Well, he thought, no time like the present. He coiled for the jump, aiming for a spot near the top curvature of the dome, and sprang forward with some automatic help from his suit. Where he aimed was where he landed and as he did, the leviathan moaned- - a low, mournful wail- -and the three feelers whipped out. Isaac ducked as one swiped at him, knocked off a few rapid shots, enough to detonate the yellowish sac of infection at the base of the feelers. A piece of the severed feeler wafted through the air, as a second feeler writhed out, wiggling like a disgusting, malformed tail.

It swiped where it felt he was, but he leapt to avoid it, and landed with a thunk on an opposite wall of the well. The well was circular, so that he could continue shooting at the feeler's base and avoid being lashed. After a few well-placed plasma charges, that feeler detracted. He could track the sickening movement as it snaked under the surface of the flesh to shoot out in a new spot, completely extending so that it showed the infection, but from where Isaac stood, he could not get a clean shot to it.

The feeler smacked the well's wall with an reverberating _WHAM_, and as Isaac jumped out of the way, the crack of a plasma cutter caught his attention. The sac of fluid exploded and the second tentacle joined the first, another piece of deadened flesh cluttering airspace.

"I've got your back," Ellie said as she jogged along the side of the well. From his position, she was above him, upside down, her suit magnetically clamped to the metal. "Watch your head!"

"What the hell are you doing?" Isaac shouted as he dodged the third feeler as it extended out. "You should be with Greggs!"

A charged beam of kinetic energy seared past- -Greggs, who shot at the yellow base. "Yeah, that didn't work out for us."

"Dammit, it's dangerous," said Isaac, strafing to the left as a thick rope of solid flesh and muscle collided with the metal well less than a meter away. A second later, he gave into their wishes. "See that center bud of skin? It's a mouth that shoots out solid pieces of infection!"

No more time for talking as the leviathan moaned and whipped around the tentacle. But with his and Ellie's precise shots, the last feeler was dismembered. The main mouth opened, straining upwards, and spat out an explosive bit of solidified infection. Isaac TK'd it back into the mouth-bud. A screech of anger as the little boulder blew apart another lined up behind the ridges of skin.

"Aim inside the mouth!"

The leviathan wasn't going down without a fight. Three more feelers snaked out from its surface. Two of those feelers slammed Greggs and Ellie off their feet. It sent them bouncing up and around the well into the dome in a tangle of limbs. Isaac barely dodged the third one as it felt around for him with two little fleshy prongs, but he kept his balance and his eye on the exposed base.

"You guys all right?" he asked over the low wailing of the Necromorph.

"Fine," said Ellie and Greggs in tandem.

He could not spare them a glance. Using the same technique, he dismembered in quick succession the three new feelers, all the while avoiding the explosive chunks of infection spewed at him with a startling precision. His breath came in great pants from the exertion, a stitch gleefully stabbing his side, and meaty remains of the feelers kept getting in his way. Resourceful as always, Isaac TK'd the spewed Necomorphic bombs back into the mouth-bud, continuing to escape ones he missed. Several shots of plasma and a blast from a contact beam over his shoulder finally killed the leviathan. In a great, mournful wail and spasmodic wriggling the once alive, then dead, then reanimated flesh fell limp.

Isaac squeezed his sides and leaned over to try catching his breath. He was too old for this shit. A pair of slim legs drew up beside him, legs with which he was intimately familiar.

"Good _God_ that thing wouldn't die," said Ellie. "We'll have to restock our ammo."

Isaac was too winded from sprinting back and forth around the damn well to reply. A second pair of legs drew up on the other side of him. Greggs, this time.

"Did you see any way to unplug the well?" Greggs asked. "It's sitting right atop the core!"

"That's not true." Ellie walked forward to gesture to the middle where the core glowed bright blue, surrounded by five or six thick, metal rings, which had stilled. "The creature was in the process of overgrowing the core, and even managed to stop the stabilizer rings. I think if we clear the rings, we can get the core back online without having to clean out the well. It would be faster to do that than to reroute enough power to open the vents and all that. We can't be sure how long it'd take us, and we have precious time as it is."

"Ah." Then Greggs clasped Isaac's shoulder. "How're you doing, old man? Any tingling in your left arm? Shortness of breath?"

Ellie coughed in a poor attempt to mask her laughing. Isaac straightened. Drily, he responded, "Youth these days. I doubt a whippersnapper like yourself would understand the aches and pains of the elderly."

"What's that about the aches and pains of the elderly?" asked a whispery voice over the link. Kobi must've suited up. "You, Mr. Clarke, are half my age."

"Are you joining us down here?" Ellie's visor upturned as she looked to the hanging catwalk. "We could use your expert opinion."

Isaac and Greggs broke the magnetic attachment to the well's side to inspect the gravity core which was above them a few meters. There was no damage that he noticed; thankfully, none of it needed repair. Ellie was right. Their main concern was freeing up the stabilizer rings. Fingers of growth had thickened in layers in the tracks for the rings and had even started growing over the actual rings.

"What can we do, boss?" asked Greggs, reaching a cautious hand to the reddish corruption. "It's pretty deep."

"Burn it or maybe cut it off." Isaac considered for a moment, deeply concerned about the sheer about of time taken fooling around down here, while Noah was perhaps fighting for his life. "The contact beam and cutters might do the trick, but that would take time and ammo we can't afford to waste."

Kobi and Ellie flew out to join them, hovering in midair in front of the core. Isaac relayed his thoughts to the others, and allowed Kobi past to inspect the corruption. He'd found a maintenance suit in a locker, which was made to pull over a worker's uniform with a separate helmet. The whole thing made Kobi look like a marshmallow man. Just then, Kobi grunted with a perfunctory "Hmph," before using his boosters to move out of the well to the hanging catwalk. He didn't seem inclined to share his thoughts, and so Isaac, Ellie, and Greggs went along to see what he was up to.

When they came topside, Kobi had crossed the catwalk, angling toward a set-up of several large, steel cases congregated up near the curve of the dome. Floating near one of the cases was a text log, which Isaac picked up with kinesis as Kobi fiddled with the locks on the cases. Isaac perused the log. It was a receipt for a previous requisition for heavy-duty plasma scrapers as there had recently been some type of 'matter growth' in the well. The receipt was dated a few days ago.

"I see," Isaac said, facing the others with the text log, "we'll be able to use the plasma scrapers to clear the tracks."

Kobi managed to force the locks on the case. Inside, under a protective layer of synthetic cloth, settled well into specially-shaped indentations, were four brand new heavy-duty plasma scrapers. Isaac lifted one out to inspect it, as did Greggs, Kobi, and finally Ellie. The scraper had an ergonomically correct grip, with a trigger and trigger-guard and adjustment slides for power and width. And, in a brilliant show of efficiency, whoever had designed the scraper had made it compatible with the plasma cartridges used for cutters.

They got to work on separating the corruption from the tracks. Greggs kept lookout as they worked. Long, slow pushes to evenly burn through the layers of tissue and growth were needed, and Isaac felt time they didn't have slipping through his fingers. There was no avoiding the delay. Uninterrupted, Isaac relaxed in the monotony of the scraping. With the three of them together, they freed the rings from growth enough so that when they knocked one of the rings, it spun fluidly, without interference.

Kobi hovered back, flexing his gloved hand. "This is very good. Let's get-"

The power cut off suddenly. In the dark, Isaac said, to no one in particular, "You're shitting me." Paranoia sang. It was a perfect time for a Necromorph ambush. "Keep on your toes. We might be attacked."

"I think it could be a power surge," said Ellie. "Let's get up to the catwalk. At least then we're on solid ground."

Their visors gave them some light, and they'd had the foresight to clip additional lights onto their suits. Beams swept across the pitch area as they boosted through the zero-g to the catwalk. Greggs helped them over the railing one by one.

"How'd it go?" he asked. He'd kept watch over their weapons, looping the cutters over his arm. "Did you get the stabilizer rings free?"

"We did," Isaac replied as he reached for his and Ellie's cutters. He handed over hers when she came over the railing and oriented. "But with the power out, we can't activate the gravity core."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the power flickered back on, the light panels lining the dome of the core activating one after another in succession. The others broke from the tight formation they'd stood in, but Isaac kept his eyes on the dome, expecting the worst to happen. Nothing did. Isaac eased his stance. To his side, Kobi remained as Ellie vaulted across the wide opening of the well to access the holopanel with Greggs following close behind. Isaac watched as they landed at the panel and Ellie's hands moved over the keys.

"Everything seems functional. I'm reactivating the stabilizer rings now. Gravity should return here in a couple seconds," she told him over audio as she typed in the correct commands. Isaac leaned over the railing to watch. First the very largest, outside ring swept around, followed by a second, inner ring, then the next, the next. Everything seemed to be fine, until there was a metal grinding and the fly of sparks in the well.

"Shit! Cut the power!" he said another shower of bright sparks burst from the core.

"What?"

"Cut the power now!"

Ellie complied and the gentle, soothing hum of the rings ceased, as did the sparking and whine of grinding metal. Isaac turned to Kobi. "Wait here."

"What's happened?" Ellie asked from the holopanel.

"I'm not sure. I'm going down to take a look." Isaac hopped over the rail and used his suit's stabilizers to fly between the rings for a better angle. Aggravatingly enough, the fourth ring was twisted and warped in one section. "Ah, yeah, some damage we didn't see. There should be a repair station around here. With any luck, we can remove the damaged section and replace it. Kobi, Greggs?"

"I'm here."

"What do you need?"

Isaac replied to both. "I need a five-oh wrench and a new section of ring. Think you could hunt that up?"

"Sure thing, boss," replied Greggs. "We'll check in when we have something."

While waiting, Isaac carefully checked the other sections of each of the inner rings for damage, but there was nothing more that he could tell. He went back to further inspect the section that had caused another delay. The metal was blackened with long furrows along the section and a place where the metal crinkled. It had gotten jammed- -which caused the section to warp- -either because something was in the track they'd cleared or the section had not been properly sized. Again, he checked the track. This time, he found two screws loose, which had popped up the track unevenly enough to catch the rings.

Isaac spoke generally over the audio. "A section of track came loose. I'll need a flat-head screwdriver if you can manage it."

"Yeah," Greggs replied. "We're in Repair now. We found your wrench and a new section. We'll be down in a minute."

"All right. Ellie? You still with us?"

She paused a moment. "Yeah. But…I think…I think I saw something in the monitoring room."

"Stay put. I'll come up."

"Isaac," she said, the edge of annoyance sharp in her voice, "I'm not a damsel in distress. I can manage on-" A high-pitched shriek, short and piercing, resonated through the well. "What the hell is that?" Then, before he could speak, he heard several reports of Ellie's plasma cutter and a _boom_ shook through the area.

"_Ellie?_ You okay?"

"That was easier than I expected. I've got things under control here," she told him when he inhaled to reprimand her. A second shriek. "Ah. There's another."

Again the rapid report of a cutter and again a _boom_ rattled the loose rings in front of him. "I'm coming up," he told her.

"That's not necessary," said Greggs, cutting in. "I'm sending Kobi down with the equipment and I'll help Ellie up here."

"Your cavalier attitudes will get you both killed," Isaac retorted, his worry quibbling in his brain. Why hadn't his eye signaled the danger? Had he gotten used to the pain? "Don't get too comfortable. And-"

Ellie smoothly interrupted. "Use the explosive bits to save ammo. We got it. Don't be a worry-wart."

Her voice carried a note of affection and confidence that silenced Isaac's rising anxiety. He calmed some, understanding that with them, he didn't have to do everything. Their capabilities were amply suitable for the situation. From the mouth of the well, Kobi came down and Isaac reached out a hand to steady the older man's position. Above them, noises from several more Necromorphs filtered into Isaac's helmet, but he concentrated on tightening the screws in the track, and then unbolting the metal plate from the stabilizer ring. Spokes kept the sections aligned, and with some patience and strong fingers, Isaac got them free, finally removing the damaged piece.

"There," he said, having finished aligning and bolting in the new section of the ring. He gave it a test spin; it spun without catching. "Kobi and I are coming up."

"We copy that. Be careful, Necromorphs have been dropping in," said Greggs. He was calm when he said, "We can't stay here very much longer."

Isaac understood the implication. They'd stayed too long in one place, the Necromorphs had circumvented the locked door, and were spilling over enough that they ran the risk of being overrun. "Shit. Kobi, let's move."

He and Kobi jetted upwards, and in the zero-g, went directly to Greggs and Ellie holding their own at the holopanel. Isaac set down, Kobi doing the same beside him, and without speaking, Kobi turned his attention to the holopanel as Isaac helped Greggs and Ellie fend off exploders and slashers that poured from the vents and crawled like spiders using the bladed tips of their limbs. To watch them come at him was creepy, as they moved so rapidly and unhesitant. The exploders made everything easier, as detonating the explosive sack neutralized any other oncoming Necromorph, but more and more continued to come.

Then the emergency PA announced that gravity had been restored and began a countdown that lasted a minute. Necromorphs, who'd been flooding out vents from the top of the dome, felt the full force of enacted gravity, plummeting to their re-deaths meters below in the well, where the spinning rings did a fine job of chopping up the bodies. However, more continued filing out of vents and other nooks and crannies, unwanted pests with an uncanny sense of structural weaknesses.

"Let's get out of here. We'll make a run for the trolley. Kobi," Isaac said, tugging him from the holopanel, "you lead on. The three of us will cover you."

Kobi nodded and unzipped from the suit where he stood, his face drained of color and damp. As a group, they went for the unlocked door. Continuous roars and shrieks of Necromorphs surrounded them, even as they fled the Gravity Core into the darkened tunnels. The run was agonizing. Not a moment of silence or rest for them as the Necromorphs relentlessly pursued them through the catacombs. How the group managed to stay ahead of the murderous creatures, Isaac would never know, but they did, and heaving for air, aching, they piled onto the lift that would take them to the trolley below the main pathways and hopefully, out of the Necromorphs' way.

After a short descent, the lift let them out at a tiny station, which was a glorified flat piece of metal surrounded with deep, deep darkness. Dripping water echoed from somewhere inside that darkness. To Isaac's dismay, the trolley was on its side below them in the trough. He saw that it had been knocked off its track hanging from the ceiling, and would prove to be an easy fix if the thing hadn't been damaged. Two clamps on the ceiling had released the top bar used to hold the trolley and transport it. A glowing holopanel to the side allowed access to the controls.

Isaac gestured as he spoke. "Greggs, help me lift the trolley up to the track, and Ellie, lower the clamps as we hold the trolley in place. Use that control screen over there to activate the controls."

They complied with his directions. Together, Greggs and Isaac used TK on the trolley to hold it up against the track. Ellie extended the clamps, which closed around the top bar firmly. A quick onceover proved the trolley was undamaged. Once aboard, Kobi typed in their destination and engaged the trolley. The trolley itself was an open, flat box with waist-high protective railings around the sides. It did sway gently as it moved at a speed that seemed a degree too rapid, causing Isaac to nervously grip the handles implanted into the top of the trolley. In all his years as a top CEC engineer, he'd never gotten used to these damn things.

After several minutes, the trolley screeched to a halt at another station. Isaac disembarked first, glad to be off the deathtrap. The label over the door was destroyed, but the door was functional and unlocked. He reached out behind him to Kobi, Ellie, and Greggs, hoisting them one by one onto the platform.

"Where are we?" asked Ellie.

"We're near the Grand. There is a short surface route we will have to take, but most of the distance can be covered down here," Kobi replied.

At Isaac's side, Greggs whispered, "Oh, shit," then stumbled and landed hard on his hands and knees, the contact beam clanking to the floor. Isaac knelt and disengaged Greggs' helmet when he heard him wheezing. Greggs' skin was flush, shining with perspiration, and lips were cracked. More disconcerting was that he trembled. Greggs' arms and legs seemed to give out on him, but Isaac was near enough to prevent the kid from falling on his face.

"Greggs," Isaac said, thumbing the button to his own helmet, "what's happening?"

And as though he thought words would not be potent enough, blood ran like a thickened, red river from his nose.

"Whoa, fuck!" Isaac dropped the plasma cutter and kept Greggs' head elevated for fear he'd drown in his own blood. "Ellie! Some help here!"

Isaac heard Ellie curse behind him, the tearing of fabric, and she came forward with a wadded handful of white cloth to press to Greggs' nose. She, too, knelt at Greggs' side and they shared a panicked glance over Greggs' nodding head. Isaac felt Kobi's presence behind him.

"He needs ice," Kobi said, "or something cold on the back of his neck. There is a drink station near the exit we can pilfer."

Isaac nodded. "Okay, I'll go with you. I don't think he's in any condition to move."

But Greggs' hand went to Isaac's forearm. "No, no," he gasped, "don't split up the group. That's what it wants."

"We're not leaving you behind," Isaac told him firmly, intuition telling him that's what had crossed Greggs' mind, "so forget it."

"I'll slow you down. It'll kill you."

Ellie's mouth was in the familiar stubborn shape. "We're not leaving you behind. The Marker can't have its way," she said to Isaac as much as to Greggs and Kobi, "and I refuse to concede to it."

"I'm the strongest of the three of us," Isaac said as he put up his helmet, "so I'll keep Greggs on his feet and moving. Ellie, you ought to take the contact beam, and Kobi, you take her plasma cutter. It'll be better than your pistol. You two lead the way. We're right behind you."

As Ellie and Kobi traded weapons and ammo, Isaac attended Greggs, whose color had gone waxen. With some gentle maneuvers, Isaac got Greggs upright. He arranged one of Greggs' arms to hang around his neck and slung one of his own arms around Greggs' waist. Greggs leaned heavily, weak and shaking, and Isaac did his best to steady the young doctor. The cloth Greggs kept to his nose had turned rusty, soaked through with his blood, and Isaac noticed an uneven, missing section of Kobi's uniform jacket. Together, they staggered through the door and kept a slow, steady pace behind Ellie and Kobi.

"It's…fighting for me," Greggs whispered so that only Isaac could hear. "It wants to use me against you."

"That's not going to happen," replied Isaac. "Hang in there, Doc. We're not giving you up so easily."

He panted out, "Thanks, Isaac."

In this way, with Greggs clinging for life to Isaac, Ellie and Kobi out front trying to rush but being cautious, they traversed a long tunnel, up a lift, and finally up an elevator. No Necromorphs seemed to be aware of their presence. The four of them stepped onto the surface, and the open air seemed to make Isaac realize how claustrophobic the tunnels had actually been. A bench allowed Greggs to sit for a rest; Kobi had rushed off and returned with a drink in a frosty pouch, which Ellie pressed to Greggs' nape as he ducked his head forward.

They had arrived in another elevated walkway, and like everywhere else, ruination had scattered luggage, bodies, and other debris around. Copious amounts of congealed blood and viscera were splattered and smeared here and there under the ever-watchful alien symbols of the Marker's madness. The area had more glass than the previous walkways, so Isaac took a moment to gaze out over the station's skyline, where domiciles had been carved out of the natural rock and the bubble of glass in the center of Rhea indicating the location of the Arboretum closer than ever.

Across the way, maybe a couple city blocks, an ornate shard of black mineral speared the vacuum of space. It rose up many meters, had several enclosed terraces, and the architecture of the tower was a throwback to hundreds of years ago, with fussy lattice-work and intricately shaped windows. A cheerful, colorful screen hanging on the tower's wall greeted Isaac to Rhea Station's Grand Hotel.

Looping around the tower were EarthGov gunships, spotlights scanning each floor, each nook and cranny of the Grand, carefully, continuously, ominously.

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**A/N:** And so ends another (longish) chapter. Hopefully, I'll be seeing you all again on Dec. 8th. Until then! =)


	18. The Best Laid Plans

**A/N: **Hey, all. I apologize for the delay in posting. For whatever reason, our internet was running super slowly and only just now got fixed. Without further adieu, please enjoy this chapter!

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**Chapter Eighteen: The Best Laid Plans**

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A cold weight settled in the pit of Isaac's stomach as he stood looking at the slowly spiraling gunships. Their powerful, tri-barrel gatling guns exuded ominous danger under the large spotlight that traced a steady path over the darkened interior of the building. Noah was there, hiding, stuck between a hard place and a rock with there being the military and Necromorphs both after him.

"If she catches him," said Nicole to his side, "you'll have to bargain your life for his."

Isaac nodded. "I know."

"They won't let you go. They'll torture you for information, forcibly withdraw it from your brain at all costs," she continued, stepping closer to him. She put a hand out to the window. "Are you willing to sacrifice yourself for a child?"

"I made a promise," he said. "To hell with EarthGov."

As he stood with Nicole overlooking the Grand and the ships hovering around, a sudden blast lit up the sky. In a terrific burst of yellow and orange plumed upwards as a gunship careened into some other buildings, thick, black smoke trailing behind it, metal pieces flying off. The second explosion, from the impact of the gunship, rocked the station. Another bright light flared up; another gunship barreled to the station.

"What's causing them to crash?" he asked Nicole.

She gestured. A ship swooped into view from behind another tower to the east. It had a similar design to a weapons-class vessel, but from the distance, Isaac could not tell if it was EarthGov or something else. The other gunships oriented toward their attacker. Several opened fire, a glittering spray that showered across some structures to the side, shattering glass and riddling metal with holes. The unknown gunship suddenly rotated 180 degrees in a maneuver that Isaac had only ever seen experienced stunt pilots take and blasted off among the buildings. EarthGov's gunships seemed indecisive, continuing to hover in a loose cloud around the Grand, facing the direction of the harasser. Eventually, orders were executed and the majority of the gunships chased after the other gunship while two remained to scour the Grand.

"Isaac!" Isaac's RIGlink crackled alive and opened a hololink of Noah. "I hacked the director's files and put them on a chip." He glanced around wildly and Isaac heard the tramp of booted feet somewhere beyond Noah. "I'm purging your code from my RIG, so you can't be-"

From over the link, Isaac heard a controlled explosion; metal rendered from the blast. Noah gasped, ducked. A man shouted, "_Cease and desist! Come out with your hands up!"_ More pronounced movement from armed men.

"Kill the mockingbirds!" Noah squeaked, his voice breaking high. "Kill the-!"

The link went dead, and Isaac knew it would be for good this time. Noah had put up one more obstacle for Director Daniels to hurtle, now that she couldn't use Noah's RIG for Isaac's identification number. And what did the kid mean 'kill the mockingbirds'? What type of code was that?

Just then, a new ship rose from a darkened crevice between two buildings, slowly went to about midway up the Grand, and gently dipped to the side to dock. Based on the lines, it looked to be a prisoner carrier. Several minutes later the new ship, flanked on each side by the two remaining gunships, flew in tight formation from the Grand to where Isaac guessed to be the government sector. None of the other gunships returned, and so Noah must be in custody.

Isaac glanced over at Kobi and Ellie, both standing on guard at Greggs' side. The walkway continued to be a bit of a safe haven; the others had not noticed the aerial drama that had drawn Isaac's attention.

"Daniels will kill them if they cross her," Nicole stated. "It might be better to slip off while they're preoccupied with Greggs. No one would notice your absence for a while, and you'd have time to sabotage the route before they could get to you."

It would be a cowardly thing to leave them with one man injured, another who was elderly, and no offense to the fairer sex, but one who was a woman. He cringed inwardly at his dismissal of Ellie's strength, but if Isaac left them without a word, she would feel abandoned and furthermore, he would leave her in a lurch because of the other two.

"So what's the plan?" asked Nicole. "They'll follow you to the end if you let them."

True. For whatever reason, he'd garnered bone-deep loyalty from Ellie and Greggs. Of Kobi, Isaac wasn't sure. He _seemed _reliable. Was he reliable enough to trust with Ellie? Isaac's gut told him Kobi could be trusted, but what did he know of Kobi aside from the general details through their conversation? For all Isaac knew, Kobi could be a Unitologist in disguise, planning a betrayal that would kill Ellie or Greggs or both. Greggs was another story. What if he suffered another psychotic breakdown?

Perhaps Isaac could separate the group. He would pair with Kobi, and leave Ellie with Greggs. He could designate assignments to each pair. They would eventually need a ship with the capacity to support several people; Ellie was the best choice for piloting, so he could send her and Greggs on a reconnaissance mission for such a vessel. Kobi could help Isaac figure an entry point into the government sector. If Kobi was Unitologist then at least Isaac would expect an ambush and work to counter it.

He continued to ruminate, but the flickering of the enhanced vidscreens surrounding the station and mounted at intervals in the walkway interrupted him. He turned from his position at the window and saw the others similarly looking towards an active vidscreen. After a couple seconds of static and quick snaps of sound, the picture steadied and the audio hummed.

Director Daniels gazed at him, stern, scrupulous, smug. A fist of hate clenched under Isaac's ribs. She thought she had him, that bitch. She inhaled and spoke through her thin lips. "Mr. Clarke. I know you can hear me from under whatever rock you've crawled under. You think you have outwitted me. You think you can outwit _evolution_. Let me tell you, you _cannot_. You may be interested to know that there are powers at work here that a man such as yourself fails to understand completely. But rest assured, _we_ will obtain what Tiedemann could not. What you took from him, Mr. Clarke."

Her mouth quirked at the corners, a sick facsimile of a smile. "We will obtain glorious Convergence, and you will help us. I have a person here that I think you may wish to see. To speak to. A person you believed died, a person who has been absent from your life for twenty-plus years." In the pause that followed, the vague spirit of Poul Clarke came alive in his son's mind, stayed lodged there as the director continued. "We've released her from stasis for this special occasion, dear Mr. Clarke."

The image switched to another woman, looking dazed and startled, with dark, long hair pinned away from her face with combs, wisps flying out, a woman who had Isaac's own blue-green eyes and dusk coloring. Numbed, Isaac could not form a coherent thought over the shock his mother's face gave his system.

"Isaac?" She did not look a day over forty- -as if she'd suddenly appeared from the annals of his memory- -not the sixty-something she should've been. "Where are you, son? They tell me that you've…that you're here. I'm sorry for leaving you without a word," she said, seemingly grasping for a connection, leaning closer to the screen, "but I'm…I want to see you. Can you come so we can talk? Please, darling boy? "

And when Daniels, that withered, old witch, came back on, Isaac had a grasp on the feeling. It was a deep, ancient fury, not the surface anger he'd felt when one of a dozen things went wrong on his trials, but a personal, nearly uncontrollable rage that soared up inside him, eating, consuming him. That Unitology had taken his mother, _his mother_, and though they'd had their fair share of disagreements and fights, he loved her as a son would a mother who'd raised him on her own when Poul Clarke dropped off the map. And he knew she was bait as assuredly as he knew fire burned.

"So, Mr. Clarke, what do you say? Will you come in peaceably for a little mother-son time? Or will you continue your path of wreckage on your futile quest to stop the inevitable?" Her eyes glittered cold and malevolently. "I think you'll know where to find us. We'll be seeing you."

She signed off, her sing-song voice rung in the palpable silence that followed. EarthGov had him. Shit. Shitshitshit_shit._ Everything was much more complicated than when he'd started. Absently, he rubbed the medallion's lump under the sec-suit, wondering what the hell to do.

"Was that…really your mother?" Ellie asked, surprising him into jerking away. Her visor was down and he saw absolute compassion shining in her eyes.

He nodded. "Yes. That was…_is_ my mother. Octavia."

She slipped behind his guard, hugging him tightly around his back, and it was when she snuffled a couple times that he realized she was crying. Today was full of the unexpected, apparently. He looped his arms around her shoulders, cupped her head with his hand, and rocked her.

"Ellie!" he said as she burrowed her face into his neck as best she could. "What…?"

But her tears were not to be deterred. He glanced over to Kobi and Greggs, both of whom looked on with compassion and empathy, but without an answer to his nonverbal question. Ellie shuddered with a sob, her breathing labored and wet, hot streaks of wet smearing under his chin. Nicole had sometimes cried spontaneously like this. Anything seemed to set her off…a sappy romance movie, an older couple holding hands, or a bad day at work would send her curling into his arms for comfort. After a few times, he learned to let her cry it out, and he guessed Ellie needed the crying to express her emotions. So, they stood in the embrace for a few minutes. Isaac wasn't even sure the cause of her tears, so could only think to murmur soft reassurances and to keep her held to him. Eventually, the crying lessened.

"I'm sorry," she said, sniffling, "but this whole situation is bollox. I mean, what more can they possibly _do _to you? They've crossed a very personal line, here, by attacking you through your mother!" She huffed in aggravation. "I mean, don't they realize? They're making you _more _determined to destroy them!"

Kobi and Greggs, who seemed recovered, had sidled closer to Isaac and Ellie, lines of concern crossing their faces. Isaac sensed that Ellie had finished with her outburst, so he released her and stepped away to give her some room so she could collect herself.

"I think Noah found some important files that might help us with the Grey Marker," Isaac said. "He and my mother are safe for now in the government sector, so our best option is to trace Noah's steps and pick up the intel he's left behind."

"Isaac! Noah's _fourteen_! What information could he have gotten?" asked Ellie. She used the heel of her hand to wipe off her tears. "We should be worried about the Grey Marker over-"

A rumbling. The floor shook under their feet; glass rattling in the frame. Loose objects toppled over, jiggled on the floor. It lasted five seconds and stopped, but Ellie clamped her hand on Isaac's arm; Greggs and Kobi steadied themselves on a waist-high railing. They looked at each other, waiting. Long seconds accumulated.

Greggs was the first to smile and relax his grip. "Nothing to-"

Pain behind Isaac's eye sharpened into a stabbing javelin into his brain. He cringed with the pain and clamped a hand to his eye socket.

The second rumbling was much louder, much more violent, and lasted much longer. For having faced a multitude of horrors, this inexplicable earthquake, or _moon_quake, frightened Isaac. To his knowledge, there were no active tectonic plates on this moon to cause it to quake. There had not been any incoming asteroids that he'd noticed. His brain scrambled for a reasonable explanation even as his teeth rattled inside his head and the sounds of warping metal creaked through the walkway.

When the rumbling stopped, everyone glanced around, stunned. Greggs' face was paler than ever. "What was that?"

"I have lived on Rhea since I was a small child," Kobi said, "and we have never had anything like that before."

"Quakes on moons are not unheard of," Ellie was quick to add. Her hand gripped his forearm painfully. "Perhaps this is a first on Rhea, but it's not in the Sol."

You know what it is, Nicole seemed to say inside Isaac's brain. "It's a Necromorph."

Isaac's flat response drew the others' attention. Ellie licked her lips and her tone was quiet. "What?"

"Before going down in the catacombs, I had…a feeling that something had grown roots in there. The giant tentacle that flung us into that apartment building," Isaac said, not quite believing his own theory but unable to come up with another explanation, "what if…what if it was a part of a…moon-sized Necromorph?"

"Oh, God," said Greggs in the shocked silence that followed. Understanding dawned on his face. "You're suggesting it's tearing apart the moon!"

Isaac dropped his hand from his eye. The pain was a constant, sizzling pressure in his head. "Yes."

Another silent beat as the others digested the new turn of events. Greggs put it best when he slumped to his knees. "We're screwed, man! Screwed!"

Something about that helpless note in Greggs' voice activated Isaac's determination. He twisted from Ellie's vise-like grip and yanked Greggs up to his feet. "We go to the Grand, then we find out what happened to the Marker-killing team. If they're still alive, we make joining with them our priority. We'll need all the help we can get to kill the Marker before it destroys this entire moon."

"Forget the Marker!" Ellie shouted, stepping in front of Isaac. "Our best chance is to get the hell off this moon!"

Coolly Isaac faced her. "If you want off, I understand. Once we're in the Grand, you can run a scan for any shuttles in the vicinity. But I'm _going_ to destroy that Marker."

She glared at him, her lips a thin line. "Fine," she said, "have it your way. What's our route to the Grand?"

They spent a few more minutes discussing their best route. Down the walkway was another apartment complex, which apparently connected to the Grand, no elevators, stairs, or vents necessary. They agreed that they would try that route first and use side-routes when necessary. Further along the walkway was a store, which they accessed to restock stasis, ammo, and med-packs. Greggs' RIG had used some of the analgesic, as had Isaac's. The Grand was sure to be teeming with murderous life forms, and they couldn't afford any mistakes, yet they couldn't afford to dawdle around either.

This main entrance to the New Rhea Apartments complex was online, and so quietly, quickly, they ducked into the hall and could go no further. The interior design of the apartments was meant to have been bright, modern, with clean lines, all of which shown through regardless of the gore, death, and hypergraphic alien scrawl. At intervals along the broad hallway were heaps of piled debris- -tables, chairs, recycle bins among other things- -and in the shadowy darkness were triplet beams of blue light running crosswise across their path. Several R-Sec officers were sprawled out in the throes of death. Blood and limbs were abundant. Pulse rounds had pitted the walls, holes the size of Isaac's fist, charred and sparking where wires had been exposed.

"What happened?" asked Ellie, sounding sick from behind her visor.

"Looks like R-Sec had a last stand here," said Greggs. He gestured. "All those heaps of debris would act as cover, and see those detonation beams? Must've been put up when they fell back."

"So how do we get through? Set off the beams?"

Greggs paused and gestured to sleek black weapon by a security officer's lifeless hand. "Well, we could use something for crowd-control. That baby deploys mines as grenades and can deactivate any mine we come across. We'd be saving ammo _and _prevent Necromorphs from homing in on our location."

"Sounds like a good idea," agreed Isaac. "Greggs, get started on deactivating those mines. Ellie will take up the contact beam with the plasma cutter as a secondary weapon. C'mere for a second and I'll rig up your suit for your cutter."

Easily, she came over to him and let him tinker with a few snaps and clips on the security suit. The suits had been made specifically adaptable, and so there were several additional parts that could be taken off or moved around. After some trial and error, Isaac had a neat little magnetic clip for Ellie's plasma cutter. It hung at her hip, allowing her to quick-draw the tool if she needed. By the time Isaac had Ellie's holster ready, Greggs was nearly finished with clearing the hall of the deployed mines. He'd just deactivated the last mine when another rumble shuddered the floor. The barriers jumped and rattled together, and with the shifting, they crashed into flattened debris. Signs and lights, having suffered enough stress, leapt from the walls and shattered, adding to the detritus already coating the floor.

Their hall curved around a bend, but a noise halted Isaac abruptly. He stuck out a hand to stop the others so they could listen. Roars- -Necromorphs' battle cries- -with maniacal laughter intermingled. A sonorous explosion that rocked the structure. Everything came from further into the building, sidetracked down another hallway off the main one they were on currently.

"YEAH, YA WANT SOME MORE, FUCKERS? EH?" a man screamed, his voice amplified by a security suit, Isaac guessed. Another explosion over the Necromorphic cacophony. "YOU BITCHES AIN'T GONNA TAKE ME DOWN WITHOUT A FIGHT!"

More hysterical laughter followed this man's declaration as well as a liberal spray of pulse rounds- -so a pulse rifle. Isaac moved into this side hall, but Ellie yanked his arm. "What do you think you're doing?" she snapped. "We don't have time for a crazy nutjob with a detonator gun!"

"Everyone matters," he told her and shook off her arm. "You move on ahead and I'll catch up to you. If this guy isn't insane, he might be useful. If he _is_ insane, I'll deal with him."

"You _idiot!_" Ellie disengaged her visor to show him her complete fury. Her finger prodded into the soft flesh of his shoulder. "You're a _wanted criminal_! He'll turn you in for a reward, or worse, kill you! And you talk of unnecessary risk."

Gently, he touched the side of her face. "We can't discount what he might know. Let me at least try."

His touch softened her. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "This is a horrible idea. And if he kills you, I told you so."

"You three go on ahead. If you can get into the Grand, do it. It might be best if he doesn't know that I've got friends with me."

Greggs spoke up. "No. Tell him you've got a group waiting for you. Convince him a group is best for survival. If he wants off the moon, he'll ease off the trigger." When Isaac hesitated, Greggs reached out to clasp his forearm. "Trust me. It'll work."

Isaac nodded and signaled for them to go ahead. He turned aside, speeding up to a trot to move through the side hall as quickly as he dared. Silence had descended at the end of the hall. He saw why: the door had closed. Carefully, he activated the door. Lights were off, probably from the grenades, and glass crunched under foot as Isaac stepped into an open area labeled as Saturn Observation Patio. Air rushed out and his suit activated. Shit, a vacuum. There was no oxygen here, as the glass partition allowing viewers to overlook Saturn had shattered. Another door at the end of the patio was unlocked, so Isaac eased one foot in front of another, expecting a lurker or a leaper to catch him off guard.

He made it to the door unmolested, but he hesitated. Should he knock? Should he enter unannounced and maybe get a pulse rifle spray to the face? Knocking would freak out the guy even more. Maybe saying something would save Isaac from being killed, but his voice might summon any hiding Necromorphs. Nothing was happening if he stood there.

"Hello? Is there anyone there?" he called. "I heard you shooting! Can you hear me?"

The door sprang open, an arm snapped out and jerked Isaac inside. The pulse rifle swung, and instinctively, Isaac ducked, struggling to escape the R-Sec's grip by strafing out of the rifle butt's path. Their tussle threw them sideways into a tall shelving unit, toppling it over and causing a ruckus. Isaac was at the disadvantage, having fallen underneath the heavy R-Sec, but managed to twist and scramble away. Both faced the other with weapons drawn, aimed, and trigger-fingers prepped. From the Sprawl, Isaac recognized the elite security suit- -the checkerboard grey pattern used as camouflage on the chest plate and helmet, and the design of the arm and neck guards, as well as the various pockets spread over the armor.

"_Who are you?_ _Who the fuck are you?_" shouted the officer, linking with Isaac's suit. The grey nametag said C. Santiago.

Isaac lowered his weapon, but did not toss it aside. "Calm down. I don't want to get into a fight with you. I have an offer."

A long pause as Santiago's visor lights shone down the barrel of his pulse rifle. Isaac attempted to exude calm authority. It was difficult staring up at a gun aimed at his head. Then haltingly, Santiago lowered the weapon. "Yeah, what do you want then?"

"My group is headed toward the Grand. Did you want to join us?"

Isaac felt Santiago's stare. "Are you special ops?"

Careful. "You could say that I'm on a privately-funded security force," he said. "We're strictly off the record."

"So do you work for EarthGov or not?"

"Yes and no," Isaac replied evasively. "We're here to clean up Director Daniels' mess."

"How's that?"

"I think you know how," Isaac said. Outright declaring his intent to destroy the Marker would draw suspicion. "If you're done interrogating me, I've a group to join." Isaac pushed himself to his feet, but did not turn his back on Santiago. There seemed to be a flux in the atmosphere from hostile to…acceptance.

Santiago shifted his weight, as though indecisive. "I'm…I'm the last of my unit," he whispered. "I can't even contact HQ for orders."

"What were your last orders?"

"Assist civilians in evacuating the station, fall back to a secured sector, and await further orders," came the sure reply. "My unit…couldn't find a secured sector. There's no one answering at HQ." A sound like a wounded animal escaped the helmet. "Oh, God…Hobbes…Legrange…Sarge…they're all dead!"

And the memory of his comrades brought Santiago to his knees. Isaac was near enough to catch an arm and ease the officer to sitting on the floor, pulse rifle clutched to his chest like a favored toy. Sobs wracked the man's body; Isaac was helpless. Internally he sighed. This was not going according to plan. He left Santiago alone to listen at the door for any Necromorphs outside.

"Jesus, Isaac! Where the hell are you?" Ellie's irritated voice bleated inside his ear. "We're at the Grand."

"Yeah, I'm coming. Did you have trouble along the way?"

"Surprisingly no. But I'm sure our luck'll change once we're inside."

"Copy that. I've found the R-Sec, but he may not be capable of coming with me. I'll try again to rouse him," Isaac replied. "When I'm on my way, I'll contact you."

"Do so. And Isaac?" she paused for a brief moment. "Hurry your ass up. I've got a bad feeling."

Famous last words, thought Isaac as they signed off the audio, and he attended the R-Sec. He seemed to be collecting himself and accepted Isaac's offered hand. He shook a few times, exaggerated shoulder shimmies, and huffed rapidly a few times as if stirring courage.

"I'll go with you. But those things…those things are hard to kill and I'm out of ammo," Santiago said.

"We'll find you some ammo, but we've got to get moving. My group is already at the Grand and is waiting for us." Isaac gestured to the doors. "Our best route is back the way we came. It was clear when I moved through, and if we're quick and quiet, it should be a second time. If you haven't learned already," he continued, positioning himself in front of the unlocked hologram, "shoot their limbs off, aim for the yellow, and be liberal with kinesis and stasis."

A tremulous rumbling halted the descent of his hand to the door lock. Isaac braced against the door jamb and when the lights went out, his and Santiago's visor traced blue over solid surfaces as they glanced around. Fixtures from the ceiling came loose and crashed over their heads, even as they threw up their arms. Santiago had leaned a shoulder into the wall on the other side of the door. The feel and sound of the moonquake vibrated Isaac's organs. Over that, he heard the shriek of flexing metal, groaning under weights that should not have been shifted, and he didn't have to be a geophysicist to understand that the shaking compromised the structural integrity of Rhea's buildings.

"We've got to move!" Isaac said, and not waiting for Santiago's consent, opened the door.

The vacuum tugged at Isaac, but his suit clamped to the metal floor as he stepped out. He saw the vista of Rhea Station, even as the shaking continued, and tracked a tall spire-like building as it teetered back and forth. He knew it was going to fall even as the top third of it broke off, snapped like hard candy, and toppled into debris at the base. Large cracks zigzagged pathways up from the foundation of the building, crumbling the mineral, splintering glass into millions of tiny flecks of light. Isaac had been in a rainstorm on Earth, and the showering glass looked exactly like the droplets of water reflecting sunlight. At long last, the shaking ceased, but the spire continued to sway, could not reach a balance, and imploded on itself. The foundation gave in and the whole building disappeared into a voluminous cloud of dust and fragmented pieces of mineral.

Santiago had moved ahead of him. "We don't have time to take in the sights," he said.

Isaac remained silent, crossing the Observation Patio without looking back. He and the R-Sec officer returned to the abandoned, cluttered hall to return to the main corridor that would lead them to the Grand. Their pace was rushed, their footfalls light as they jogged past open and closed apartment doors, scattering of Necromorph limbs, and more R-Sec bodies. For a brief minute, they paused to gather Santiago some additional ammunition for his pulse rifle, but aside from that hesitation, they continued without stopping.

"The entrance to the Grand is up ahead," said Santiago. "We're almost there."

Almost wasn't close enough. In the distance, echoing, Isaac heard shots, shouting, plus returning fire. The blast of a contact beam…rapid reports of plasma cutters. He was not a man to panic, but this did it. Heart hammering, Isaac ratcheted up his speed into a flat-out sprint down the rest of the corridor, thinking it was a Necromorph attack.

But there were no roars to indicate such.

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**A/N: **As always, I'm open to your concerns, questions, and criticisms. I hope to see you all next week, on 12/15/12. Until then. =)


	19. The Grand

**A/N:** Welcome back, everyone, to a new & exciting chapter for "Reconciliation". Please enjoy!

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**Chapter Nineteen: The Grand**

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Something terrible was happening, at this moment, and Isaac could not stop it, even as he sprinted recklessly down the hallway toward inevitable danger. Something like lightning crackled through the air- -standing the hair up on his neck and arms under the sec-suit- -and the blinking of it flickered shadows along the corridor. More shooting, the stampede of feet, the clanging of metal echoed into his ears.

"Hey, man! Slow down!" Santiago called from behind him. "Wait! _Wait_!"

Isaac ignored the warning. He rounded a corner into blinding white light that his visor could not immediately diffuse. Even then, he knew. It was a spotlight. Air rushed in a vortex around him; he squinted as the visor adjusted and above him the roof had parted open, sucking out oxygen and gravity. Hovering in space, bay doors clasping shut, was an EarthGov prisoner carrier, the sides gleaming in the solar light as it completed its rotation. Automatically the shielding overhead closed. Then the ship silently jetted off between buildings.

He wasn't sure what he felt. Stunned, most likely. A few officers lay crumpled to the floor, blood splattered on the tile, macabre against the family poster and cheerful advertisements. Bright halogen overheads provided stark lighting on the gruesome scene at his feet. Santiago halted next to him and surveyed the area.

"What happened here?" he asked. Then he spotted the dead officers and went over to them.

Numb, Isaac remained as he was, taking in the view, trying to comprehend the transpired events. They'd come to a slightly widened area, a mouth that fed into the throat that opened to the Grand. Several other corridors led off in different directions. The entrance was deliberately lit, labeled, and decorated. Of course there was the glass bubble overhead, which Isaac now knew opened into space. Greggs, Ellie, and Kobi had stopped to wait, probably not even realizing that they were in the open. The carrier might've been making rounds, or just passing overhead, spotted the three survivors and deployed the troops when the RIGlinks were blocked. Ellie and Greggs would've fought- -Kobi, perhaps undecided- -but the military had overwhelmed them, or hit them with stasis. Then up they'd gone into the belly of the carrier ship.

A sudden thump to the side drew Isaac's attention. His heart, pumping hard from the exertion, leapt with fresh adrenaline. Plasma cutter poised, Isaac stepped over to where the noise had generated, which was on the other side of a closed door. When he hit the panel, he did not expect Kobi to tumble out, bloodied and limp. The elderly man had sustained four pulse rifle shots to the torso, each a wound that had flowed with blood. He was very dead.

"Shit." Isaac eased Kobi's body to the cool floor. "Kobi. I'm sorry."

Of course, Kobi did not answer, but his hand clutched an audio log. Gently, Isaac pried the log from seized fingers and downloaded the content to his RIG. He'd play it when he had privacy from the sec-officer. With his allies captured (and killed, in Kobi's case), he needed to rethink his strategy. Everything seemed to hinge on the loyalties of Santiago. Would he want to get off Rhea? Or would he want to reconnect with the military for further orders?

Footsteps came up behind him as Isaac gently closed Kobi's eyes. At least there was not a look of terror imprinted on Kobi's face. Santiago stood at Isaac's back. The chill of instinct tingled along his spine, so slowly, deliberately, Isaac rose to his feet.

"Santiago," Isaac said, turning to face the sec-officer, "what's your plan?"

Hesitation. "I'm not sure I follow you."

"Do you want off Rhea? Or are you determined to regroup with your people?" Isaac shifted his fingers over the plasma cutter's grip. "I've got to get to the government sector, and when I do, my plans there may differ from yours."

"Meaning…?"

"Meaning people will try to stop me from completing my mission," he replied, his tone grave. "You've got to decide, right here, right now. Are you coming with me or are you escaping? I warn you, if you stay, you could end up dying." Isaac gestured to Kobi. "He was with my group, trying to help us. And look what happened."

Guilt, always a shallow scrape from the surface of his feelings, reminded him of mistakes made. Perhaps if he hadn't run off to save the officer, Kobi would be alive. God only knew if Ellie and Greggs were. The weight of the St. Christopher medallion pressed on his heart. Faith had cost too many innocent people their lives.

"No," said Nicole over his audio, "it is the power-mongering that corrupted blind faith. There is nothing wrong with faith that gives hope."

He couldn't believe in faith. He couldn't believe in anything. Nothing was left inside him but a stubbornness to fuck up EarthGov's day. Carefully, he stepped to a terminal housed next to the locked doors of the Grand and prized off the covering. "There's some data inside here I have to recover."

"Can you…can you tell me why all this is happening?" Santiago came closer to Isaac's shoulder. "Do you know what's going on?"

To the best of his ability, Isaac summed up the Necromorph outbreak as he yanked and plugged in wires to manipulate the doors. He rushed, mainly because the time between Necromorph attacks was beginning to extend into a few minutes, increasing the likelihood of another attack, and he didn't want to be caught with his ass out. The holographic panel blinked from orange to white, but before opening up the door, Isaac paused. Santiago had taken everything Isaac had said, quietly and without the peppering of questions others would ask, and with a complete lack of freak-out. In fact, Santiago seemed to accept the explanation wholly.

"You okay?" Isaac asked.

Santiago nodded once. "I don't like being played," he said, but there was distance in his voice. "It pisses me off."

"Naturally," replied Isaac. "Does that mean you're coming with me?"

"Yes. The arboretum," Santiago said, gesturing outwards to the glimpse of a glass dome, "can get us into the gov-sector. We won't have to find a functional transport hub if we take that route."

"Good a plan as any," replied Isaac. "I'll try to recover that data as quickly as possible."

"Sure. It shouldn't be too difficult."

"I'm opening the doors," Isaac warned, ignoring Santiago's last statement. "You ready?"

Santiago shouldered the pulse rifle. Isaac saw he'd scavenged ammo, though he knew it was still low. There should be more ammo around that they could recover. Likewise preparing his cutter, he hit the panel. The door screeched, setting both of them on edge and nervously swishing their flashlights behind them, expecting an ambush, as the solid metal struggled to retract.

Santiago touched the door, which had gotten two feet off the ground and shuttered violently. "What the fuck?"

"Something's stuck in the gears." Isaac knelt so he could peer into the small diameter of light on the other side into the Grand. He put stasis on the door. "Crawl under."

They entered the Grand on their backs, squirming under the edge of the door. Isaac, himself, had irrationally imagined the door dropping and cleaving them apart. The horrible screeching of the metal, however, would signal every Necromorph to their location, so Isaac blasted the wires. With a resounding final _clunk_, the door slammed to the floor. Silence. Emergency lights cast shadows over everything.

Corpses were prolific, as were the usual Marker-induced signs of madness. Lanterns had been placed evenly along the floor, spreading along marked walkways in a very wide lobby. Several entrances lined the sides, opening to a central desk, behind which were elevators. As Isaac monitored the surroundings for signs of life, Santiago groaned. Then the officer staggered, stumbled, picked himself up. His balance was off, so he careened, arms wheeling, into the wall. His shoulder crashed first, seemed to bounce him off, and sent him stumbling into a line of neatly-placed bodies. Santiago lost it, then, and Isaac heard the terrified screams behind the helmet as the man flailed around, jumbling the dead bodies into jumping up and throwing limbs over him which only added to Santiago's distress.

Isaac rushed to Santiago, meaning to yank him from the groping bodies, and he discovered that was a much harder thing than he'd thought. Santiago kept scrabbling backwards, out of Isaac's reach, fumbling around as his movements caused the bodies to animate, which exacerbated the situation further. Finally, Isaac caught hold of Santiago's elbow, enough to haul him into a cleared walkway and shake some damn sense into the guy.

"What the hell?" Isaac asked. "Have you lost your mind?" He winced when he realized what he'd said.

"Bodies…everywhere," Santiago whined and shuddered visibly. "I can hear them. They're whispering."

Okay, so not the hardened ooh-rah commando Isaac expected. "Try not to think about it. Let's check to see if the elevators are open. We don't want to be in this room for much longer." Bad vibes sang through Isaac's every nerve; his gut clenched with anticipatory anxiety.

Santiago recovered and allowed Isaac to help him up. He brushed himself as he said, "Yeah, good point. Dead bodies are very bad."

A thought brought up Isaac short. Yeah. Why were these bodies in here, _not transformed_, when the rest of Rhea had gone to hell in a hand-basket? Everywhere else the Necromorphs had infiltrated, so why not here? Additionally, the Grand was a centralized location. It should've been the first place to teem with Necromorph life forms.

"Why'd you stop?" Santiago asked. He sounded out of breath.

"I don't understand why these bodies are here," replied Isaac, starting forward again. "It doesn't make sense."

"Maybe those things haven't gotten in here yet," said Santiago.

Isaac didn't reply, mulling over this new development. He didn't like the feeling the bodies gave him. The elevators were functional and a directory to the side gave Isaac the information he needed to find the director's quarters- -floor fifty-three, which were private suites. Together, he and Santiago entered the elevator, but when he went to press the button, he saw a huge section of floors was inaccessible by elevator. Nothing was available anywhere near the fifty-third floor except the sixtieth floor. It would have to do.

"You think the Marker is screwing with us?" Santiago asked out of the blue after a few floors' worth of silence. "I mean, that's what you said it does, right? Maybe it left the bodies there to mess us up."

That could be true. "You're right. The Marker fucks with our heads because it's trying to use us against ourselves. Bodies left untouched could be another form of torture," he said. As an afterthought, he murmured, "but I feel like there's another purpose for them."

"You mean like a snack for later?"

Not imagery he wanted in his head, yet the idea was fair on target. "Or…there's another pressing use for them. I learned that everything the Marker 'creates' is from human tissue. Bigger Necromorphs are formed from more than one human body fused together. Even the corruption is human DNA."

A long moment of contemplative silence rolled over them. Then Santiago said, "Those bodies are being used to make a larger creature."

"Could be. There's already an enormous Necromorph out there. It's batted a few shuttles from the sky with tentacles, though I haven't seen one in a while. And all the shaking that's been going on…"

As if the spoken word had caused it, the windows rattled in the car as some low rumbling shook through the station. Creaking and groaning as the infrastructure of the building contracted and shifted to accommodate the moon's seizure. The elevator's back wall was a window that looked out over a section of Rhea. Far below, a series of buildings rippled, like something had lifted them out of place as it burrowed underneath. Those buildings crashed and knocked over other buildings as a wave of destruction obliterated a section of Rhea, mineral breaking and crumbling apart like pieces of stale bread. Dust rose as bits and pieces floated into free space. Then the rumbling stopped.

"Whoa. Didja see that?" asked Santiago.

Isaac had. And he didn't like it because it proved him right. The elevator skipped over the floors that were inaccessible, opening up on the sixtieth. Immediately, a surge of pain crashed behind his eyes. Necromorphs that had hung around roared and squealed as soon as the elevator doors opened. Several burst from vents in the sides of the hall- -a mishmash of lurkers, leapers, and slashers- -charging toward the living flesh. Used to the gruesome creatures, Isaac opened fire. Noise faded into the paced throb of his heartbeat, the steadiness of his breathing. It was almost as if he knew down to the nanosecond how fast they moved, when and where the missiles would strike, which limbs to dismember first, which to stasis and use kinesis on.

When all was said and done, the score was Isaac (and Santiago) still living; Necromorphs, not. He didn't wait for Santiago to recover, but moved along the hall at a clip. He couldn't help the feeling that things were going to get progressively worse too fast. Along the hall were accommodations and luxury suites for hotel guests. Somewhere around here should be a staircase or a lift that would lead them to the fifty-third hallway. Santiago stuck to Isaac's heels, saying nothing.

Isaac's guess took them to a side hall, slimmer and narrower than the main hallway. A few cysts had sprouted on the walls, ceiling, and floor, and so activating them took a simple recycle bin tossed out with kinesis. The cysts grunted, spat, exploded, and cleared the way to the stairwell. Before entering, Isaac half-turned to Santiago.

"Keep close, fast, and quiet. Last time I was on a stairwell, I was ambushed," _and nearly killed,_ he wanted to add, but didn't think it would help the other's nerves. "Keep your ears open for any unusual sounds."

Santiago nodded, and as they entered the stairwell, using their flashlights to augment the dimming emergency runners, Isaac wondered what had made the sec-officer so compliant. His own special advanced suit might give an aura of authority, but what had made Santiago so…trusting? Was it the Marker, softening Santiago's suspicion in order to allow Isaac to drop his guard, at which point the Marker could then turn Santiago against him? Or was Isaac being paranoid, and the sec-officer followed because he didn't know what else to do?

Fucking mind games. No ambush awaited them as they trotted down the blocky stairwell to level fifty-three. He hadn't planned for the door to fifty-three to be offline. Annoyed with the delay, Isaac hammered his fist into the useless door. It was fixable, but it would cost precious minutes.

"How're we supposed to get through?" Santiago asked. He stood with his back pressed against the wall, his visor reflecting the nervous glances he took. "We're sitting ducks here."

Isaac pried off a panel next to the door. "Cover me. I have to crank it open manually."

Because of the power failure, even if Isaac had taken the time to reroute power to the door, it was no guarantee that the door would be unlocked. Since the locks were maintained with electrical power, opening the door manually would circumvent the locking mechanism. Skillfully, Isaac unfolded the cranking handle and began the arduous task of using it to pull open the doors. Santiago stood silently at attention, doing periodic hallway sweeps, and their luck held. The door reluctantly opened to allow them onto the fifty-third floor.

They came to the end of a very short hall, which was hidden in a corner of a wider, broad area. Glass windows swept out to a view of Rhea with partitioned balconies. Tucked into an alcove was a service station, where hotel security would screen visitors to the floor. The glass windows brought in weak sunlight, and Isaac saw several doors askew on either side of the area. Cautiously, he crept around the service station, glancing over the counter to see if there was an indication of Daniels' room. Everything was scattered, so he moved on.

Quickly, he scanned the doors. One of them had black residue which indicated a controlled explosion that had blown out the locking mechanism. Inside was a living room with a sitting area, coffee table, and a wall dedicated to a vidscreen that hovered on a peaceful image of a sunset in a desert. Things remained untouched as Isaac swept his flashlight beam over lightless area.

"Stay here," he told Santiago, "this'll take a minute."

Santiago didn't argue and took up a holding position outside the door. Hair prickling along his neck, throat dry, Isaac sidled further into the room. He half-expected for a squadron of elite R-Sec to burst out from the wall and gun him down without hesitation. It didn't happen, even as he came to another door that was similarly blown open. This room was a bedroom with the usual bed, nightstand, all neat and tidy, and on the right-hand wall, a third doorway opened into a sizable office space. Isaac licked his lips. He recognized the desk, the shelves of print books rising up the wall behind, and approached it, thinking an alarm system would blare.

Daniels had posted digital notes on vidscreens to either side of the desk, and Isaac allowed his eyes to scan over them. Unitology lore of some sort. Inwardly, he sneered. He didn't need literature to convince him Unitology was hocus-pocus with a lot of blood in the mix. Unitology itself amply persuaded him. He moved to the desk, and behind that, the bookshelf.

A special case covered the bookshelf, and he noted with interest the holographic device front and center on the glass. It was an environment module, and he understood that the books, old and organic, would deteriorate from chemicals and mishandling. Usually, the case itself was secured with a RIG scan, but Noah must've hacked the scan.

Isaac waved a hand over the reader. With a hiss and a small _chink_, the glass case retracted. At first Isaac allowed his eyes to skim the leather bindings of the books. Several of them he'd read in Classical Lit classes in college, and as there were few contemporary authors printed on paper, most of them were from the era of Earth's history before the digital and electronic age. The books were alphabetized, in strict, soldiered ranks on the shelves with a few cultural knickknacks breaking up the weighted symmetry of the books. It was because of the evenness that he noticed one was a fraction of a millimeter out of line from his brothers.

"Kill the mockingbirds," Isaac murmured to himself. "Well, what do you know?"

The title of the book was _To Kill a Mockingbird_, and it was the code Noah had conveyed on their last transmission. The book slid out easily. Stuck between the front cover and the first page was a thin, thumb-sized microchip in a protective casing. Maybe, just maybe, if he could get this chip back to _Retribution_, the Clarke Faction would have enough grounds to debunk Unitology. That was _if _Noah had copied anything of value. Isaac could hold on to the chip for as long as was safe, but he knew that if he went into the government sector to save his companions (and his mother, which didn't bear thinking about just yet), Daniels and EarthGov would eventually find it. But that was a problem he could deal with later.

Noah's hard work tucked safely in an inside pocket, Isaac began the return trip to Santiago. "I got what I came here for," he informed the R-Sec officer over audio. "Let's head over to the government sector."

Static crackled over the comm. A seed of worry sprouted roots in Isaac's mind. His audio had linked to Santiago's; Santiago received the message, but something had gone wrong on his end. Quickly, Isaac cut through the apartment to the front door where he'd posted Santiago. The R-Sec officer was no longer there.

"Santiago? You there?" Isaac asked. Santiago's helmet could've suffered a damaging blow, enough to knock the technology screwy. He could maybe hear Isaac, but not be able to respond. Then, throwing caution to the wind, Isaac activated his external speakers. "Santiago? Santiago, can you hear me?"

Still nothing. Swallowing around a lump, Isaac examined the immediate area outside the apartment doors. No fresh blood there. Perhaps Santiago had heard something and went to investigate, without, of course, signaling Isaac. Which direction? Isaac craned his neck. On the left, he could make out the round counter of the service station, and dimly, past that, the sweep of Saturn's rings outside the enclosed terrace. On the right, further into the Grand, the hallway faded into shadows and dark. Nothing seemed disturbed or out of place.

Either direction seemed likely. Santiago could've gone to secure their exit at the stairs, or he could've gone further into the unknown. Isaac had quite the moral argument with himself; he hadn't felt any danger from the Marker, so it was possible that Santiago had stepped away for a moment. But he wasn't sure if the eye-thing would respond to danger to others. It could be that Santiago had been ambushed by a Necromorph(s), the danger coming and passing so quickly that Isaac had not time to register it through his eye, if his eye could pick up attacks on others. Logically, he should leave without looking around, but he _had _said to Ellie not an hour ago that everyone mattered.

"And everyone does," said Nicole over his link. "You know what you have to do."

Shit. He checked the plasma reader on his cutter, exchanged the old one for fresh, and checked the reader on his stasis, which had recharged since last usage. Okay, he thought, a sick coldness in the pit of his stomach, here goes. Slowly, Isaac stepped forward into the wide hall, following the line of closed doors on his right. He reasoned that the least he could do was to check the floor before heading back to the stairs.

The hallway was pitch black and seemed swallowed in a heavy silence. Too silent, in fact, and Isaac disengaged his helmet so he could better hear his surroundings. "Santiago?" He hated how the whisper seemed to boom in the darkness. "You there?" Nothing.

Prickles along his spine. Something watched him. His mind whirled- -what could it be? Or was it…some_one_? Santiago could be lying in wait, having set up this neat trap in order to capture or kill him. Isaac calmed some. That was unlikely- -not improbable, but unlikely that Santiago would rely on Isaac to blunder into a trap. How would Santiago have known that Isaac would go in the correct direction?

No, his brain was scaring him because of the silence and the mysteriousness of Santiago's disappearance. The tingle of being watched continued as Isaac moved carefully along, inducing him to engage his helmet. No sense in getting his face mauled in the event of an attack. He carefully checked each corner, but the floor seemed as empty as ever, as quiet and lonely, and when he threaded his way through the side corridors, picking up speed as he did so, he had found not one trace of Santiago. Not a trace of anything, but he did hear a muffled crack, though he could not pinpoint its origin, as he hurried in the darkness.

Nothing more could be done. Isaac had a strict timetable since the moon _was_ cracking up under his feet, and he wanted to be as far away as possible when that occurred. He arrived at Daniels' quarters, after which he popped in for one last quick glance. When his light beam flitted over a figure, Isaac's heart jammed into his throat, hammering compulsively with fear, but when the figure did not move to attack, he steadied the beam and exhaled.

It was Santiago. He sat in an armchair in the far corner, which was obscured from view between the bedroom doorway and the front door. Isaac wondered if Santiago had waited for him to leave from this position or had hidden and watched to make sure he'd gone. Then Isaac figured the sequence of events didn't matter. Santiago had disengaged his helmet; his head lolled on the back of the armchair beneath a pointblank explosion of red blood, dripping down the wall with chunks of brain. He'd shot himself through the mouth with a pistol that had dropped to his lap. Blood dribbled along Santiago's smooth chin, the eyes glazed under a black wave of hair at his temples. Those sightless black eyes would drive Isaac mad, so he strode over and used his thumbs to close the lids. Then because he was a thorough man, he used precious cutter ammo to dismember the R-Sec officer who'd picked suicide over survival.

No. There was nothing more Isaac could've done. With a lingering feeling of regret, he exited the suite, steeling himself momentarily before plunging into the black pit of stairs. His mind already scurried ahead to mapping the best route to the arboretum.

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**A/N:** And so the Marker claims another life that Isaac had saved. Readers, I want to let you know that I appreciate all of your support and kind words regarding this story, and I hope the story I have to tell continues to interest you. On that note, I'm going to be taking a bit of an extended break from posting. There is a lot of holiday travel and business I attend to over the next few weeks. I'll continue posting chapters regularly on 01/05/13. Until then, happy holidays & I'll see you in the new year! =)


	20. Into the Arboretum

**A/N**: Welcome back, dear readers and lurkers! I truly hope you had a wonderful and relaxing holiday, and that you brought in 2013 with joy and laughter. Thank you all for giving me the time away from keyboard. You have been extremely patient. Please, enjoy.

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**Chapter Twenty: Into the Arboretum**

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Due to his focus on retrieving the data Noah left behind, Kobi's murder (Isaac had no doubt it _was _murder), and Santiago's apparent suicide, he'd forgotten about Kobi's audio log. He remembered solely because his RIG flashed a reminder that he had an unchecked message. Isaac had climbed back up the stairs and was riding the elevator down, and since he felt lonesome- -with no one with him and no one to talk to- -he spared the time to listen to the audio.

"Isaac," Kobi started, in that whispery, old-man voice, "I'm dying. I'll probably be dead when you hear this. Listen to me. Once you're inside the Arboretum, you must access the Main Controls Station; that's the easy part. Several floors underneath that is a private tram line that will take you to the government sector. It should be in better shape than any transport hub. Be careful, though. The director may override the tram to force you into another route. Before you activate the tram, you have to…" Panting and a low, tapering groan. Doggedly, Kobi continued, fainter than before, "You have to shut off the …" His pants became heaves for air. "Haruhi…my dear, dear…Haruhi…" The audio cut off, but not before Isaac detected the high tone of a flat-lining RIG.

Whatever Kobi had tried to convey had been lost in his hallucination. The old man should've died of his old age, not from four pulse rounds to the chest. His loss grated at Isaac, though there was nothing else for him to do but be successful in penetrating EarthGov's defenses. He had the route; now he just had to access it.

When he came off the elevator, the bodies in the Grand's forum were no longer present. At least thirty bodies had been scattered on the floor when he and Santiago passed through. Then the idea that the corpses were being used for some Necromorphic monstrosity put him in such disconcertment that he crept along towards his goal at half the speed he was normally used to, nervous as a cat at each tiny sound. He relaxed, by a slight margin, when he came to the front doors of the Arboretum unscathed; he'd half-hoped he could saunter on in without difficulty.

As it was with such things, the Arboretum was on lockdown. Orange holographic locks were bright in the half-dark. Systems seemed to be intact, since the damage was not as great here as in other buildings or in transport hubs. The main gates themselves were barred and when he searched around, he could not find a terminal to hack. Time disallowed him to circumvent the dome for an alternate entrance. Fortunately, to the side was a cheerful holographic display, and after a moment of poking at it, a firm, feminine voice came through on the loudspeakers.

"Rhea Arboretum is currently closed. Due to the natural proclivities of the vegetation and animal life preserved in the arboretum, the night cycle has begun. The cycle will provide the flora and fauna time to rejuvenate and rest over a period of eight hours. We apologize for any inconvenience. Please return after the night cycle has been completed in four hours and thirty-six minutes," the voice said. "Thank you."

Isaac checked his chronometer. It indicated that what was considered 'daytime' had several hours left. That meant that the Arboretum should be open for the general public; something external had caused the system to lock down. Again he poked around on the selections for the holographic panel, and after a few menus, he discovered that solar panels were responsible for shedding light into the arboretum. They were on an automatic cycle that determined daytime and nighttime. Perhaps if they'd been misaligned, it would cause the system to go into the nighttime cycle, thus locking the front gates.

He was sure the solar panels could be reached from outside the Arboretum. But how? And where? A directory would give him an idea of where he could find access to the solar panels, so the trick was in finding one that had power and wasn't damaged from the outbreak. There was a broad corridor that ran around the perimeter of the dome, and it was apparent that normally, citizens could gaze into the glass when walking the corridor. Since the system was on lockdown, metal shutters had closed over the windows, preventing Isaac from getting a peak inside. The corridor was lined with vidscreens, advertisements, and various stands. Like most of the main walkways, the corridor was divided in half, had benches, various hatches to other sections of Rhea, and was spacious.

For whatever reason, carnage in this area was lesser than what he'd seen over the station. Corruption had congealed over a few sections, but mainly the corridor was clear. Isaac managed to locate a working terminal with minimal effort and sidetracking, and queued up Rhea Station Arboretum Processes and Maintenance, which gave him the access location of the solar array systems for the dome. As he uploaded the location to his RIG, a familiar, low rumbling vibrated through the station. It lasted almost two minutes- -he kept track on his chronometer- -and he half expected to hear thousands of panes of glass crash and shatter inside the dome. If the seismic activity continued, he was sure the dome would collapse. Which was the least of his concerns as it could indicate that the whole moon could be torn from the inside out.

He had to hurry. The waypoint took him further into some twists and turns through different doors and corridors, finally leading him to an elevator that would take him to Arboretum Dome Solar Array. In the middle of the ride, the power flickered and the light in the elevator went off. Isaac froze. His eye wasn't acting up, so the outage was due to a power surge, and he shouldn't be concerned. But standing there in the dark with nowhere to run gnawed at Isaac's nerves.

"Trust yourself," Nicole told him, her voice so close to his ear goose-bumps rippled on his skin. "Not everything indicates an attack."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered. She was a ghost. What did she have to fear?

He didn't expect her snarky response. "Shut up, old man. You can do this. You _have _to."

He was still smirking at her response when the elevator sighed to a stop and spread the doors open to the Dome Solar Array controls. Some lockers were set up against the wall at the far left, behind a holographic tabletop near the middle of the steel-grey room. A couple dead bodies occupied a few seats, blood and gore dripping over the controls to the right. They looked sightlessly out over the apex of the dome through a viewing window, and as Isaac perused the interface, he saw that five of the seven panels were out of alignment. _And _he had to do the aligning manually. He frowned. Why was he always realigning equipment? First Titan…now here…

At least he wasn't a few kilometers over the surface of the moon. To the far side were the airlock doors that would lead him out to space. The fix, he knew as he stepped through the doors and waited for everything to green-light, would be a simple enough matter. But when the hatch opened, pain welled in the nerve behind his eyeball, hard.

Damn. He _hated _fighting Necromorphs in space because he was at such a disadvantage. Sound didn't travel in a vacuum, so he couldn't use it to track the creatures; he had to rely on his vision, and let's face it, he wasn't young anymore. Or perfectly sane. The hatch overlooked a broad steel walkway, about three meters across, and jutting overhead was an overhang. The walkway seemed to encircle the dome, but he was sure he could maneuver across the circumference of the area in free space to save time.

That overhang, though…a premonition that something waited for him on top of that overhang bloomed in the back of his mind. He'd known a few military men, seen them in maneuvers enough to remember that he could exit the hatch backwards and keep his eye on the overhang, so if something _was _waiting for him, he wouldn't be taken by unawares. Spinning on his heel, Isaac stepped carefully from cover backwards, his plasma cutter extended.

And he noticed the whipping tails with barbed tips a precious second before the leapers launched from the roof. It was when they landed that he saw they were _advanced _leapers, skin blackened from the sustained exposure to the virus. Son of a bitch. He backpedaled to give himself room and aimed with stasis. The first one to his left didn't see it coming, but the second and third ones did, skittering to the side before the stasis cloaked them. Before he could try another shot, the leapers ducked and lunged at him.

Their mistake. In mid-air, in a vacuum, they could not change direction. Isaac nailed one with a second shot of stasis; the third leaper sailed over his head, flanking him. Cockroach-quick, it scuttled on chest and limbs toward him, dodging plasma discharges with fast feints to the left and right. It moved in, not deterred by Isaac's accurate shots to the arms, so that he had to sidestep to avoid decapitation from the scorpion stinger. By the same token, the leaper couldn't avoid the pointblank stasis. Isaac sensed the initial bout of stasis was wearing off, so as rapidly as he could, he dismembered the first leaper then the second and then the third.

In the firefight, he hadn't noticed the lurkers take position on the wall-side of the walkway. Two blasts ricocheted agony into his back and shoulder. Yelling, half-stumbling in surprise, Isaac slammed into a corner between two solar panels for cover. He tasted blood, and his breath came in labored pants under the pain. Fuck. Where'd they come from? Stupid question. When he poked his head around the corner, he sighted the two lurkers before he had to jerk back to avoid missiles. Like the leapers, they were a charred black- -advanced- -which meant they would evade his shots if he wasn't careful, and the missiles would fly more frequently.

There wasn't anymore time, then, because one of the lurkers landed in a pretty spot right on the walkway in front of him. He used stasis, clipped off the dancing little missile launchers, killing the first one as the second one bounded into view. It fired off a round of missiles, which Isaac narrowly avoided by jumping upwards to the freedom of open space, and returning fire. In the back of his mind, a warning dinged that he was running out of air. He used his suit's boosters to strafe another set of missiles, then aiming and hitting, the waving tendrils to put down the deformed mutant baby.

The dead bodies floated off directionless. Aching, his back and shoulders hurting like hell, Isaac didn't spare them a second thought as he latched onto the walkway with his magnetized boots, speeding up to a jog when he saw the green O2 hologram up ahead a few meters. After he refilled his oxygen, he went back to the first panel that was out of alignment. At each of the panels' bases were interfaces, which showed correct daytime and nighttime positions. Once he determined the daytime position, there was the simple matter of TK'ing the panels up or down the tracks. Repeat steps one and two.

Isaac didn't find much resistance as he corrected the solar panels. A handful of other advanced Necromorphs lunged at him from different areas of the walkway, but thanks to a plethora of green bins lying around, he found stasis rechargers and plenty of replacement ammunition. His main concern was what he'd face upon entering the arboretum. If he was already facing the advanced stages of the virus _here_, whatever was inside would be ten times worse. That, and he had a sneaking suspicion that those missing bodies from the Grand would make an unwelcome appearance.

A half-hour later, he re-entered the control station. Everything was functional; the arboretum had automatically unlocked when the last solar panel had been positioned. He gazed out the display to the shining glass dome, to the vague green shapes that were hulking and motionless. After several seconds of watching- -for what, he didn't know yet- -he turned from the windows. It was time to go.

Upon entering the arboretum, he realized how immense the facility actually was. He'd an idea of it, since the dome rose up high enough that the glint of it could be seen between buildings all over Rhea, but when he gazed upwards, up, up, up, the reflective glass was lost among the sheen of sunlight and the twinkle of stars. An earthy, _growing _scent filtered through his helmet, a smell he hadn't enjoyed since he was a small child on Earth. From his bones, he missed that planet, and he disengaged his visor to inhale deeply.

There was none of the sanitized, reused smell to the air here, and none of the taint, the rank of Necromorph growth. Perhaps the organic environment hindered the spread of Marker-related phenomenon. Yet…he could smell, feel even, a difference between this place and Earth. I ought to go back some day, he thought, gazing over the canopy of lush green leaves and grey trunks in the hushed silence. The brilliant emerald was enough to bring tears to his eyes. A dream, only a dream, and he knew he would never be able to return to his home planet before he died.

"You don't know that," Nicole said. She appeared standing next to him, and she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You may yet return to Earth like you always wanted."

Isaac held her gaze. "It's a matter of time. My chances of survival diminish with each Marker encounter I have. That, and I doubt EarthGov will allow a fugitive on the planet."

"Don't you think you'll be free after this has passed?"

He turned from her and listened to the quiet living forces inside the confines of the dome, remembering how it felt to be under the expansive blue sky, lying with his back on a carefully preserved meadow, grass and clover tickling his neck and ears. "Will it pass? I can't be sure of anything," he finally said, "and life doesn't usually have a happy ending."

"You always took life and death so seriously," she told him. "It was one thing I most loved about you."

In an abrupt jerk of his head, he glanced at her, but she'd disappeared to the protected part of his head or heart or wherever it was she flitted to and fro. He sighed and engaged his visor. Time had already been wasted dawdling around in the Grand and fixing the solar panels. Greggs and Ellie were in trouble, as well as Noah. No more delays.

His main objective at the moment was to find the correct route out of the Arboretum into the government sector. Until he got there, he had no way of knowing for sure where Ellie and Greggs were. Noah would be guarded in the main EarthGov facility in the heart of the sector. He could only assume that was where Ellie and Greggs were as well; he'd work under that assumption until otherwise proved wrong.

For now, he gazed ahead. A patio had been designed at the entrance to the Arboretum, the naturally-occurring black mineral cut into precise blocks and set into an appealing pattern in the ground. The patio narrowed to an undulating path that led into the thicket of trees and brush that had been cultivated in the most natural way possible. To the side was a functioning holographic terminal for guests. The base had a holopanel, and when Isaac selected a few options, he discovered a map to Arboretum Main Control, which he downloaded to his RIG. He could find nothing relating to a tram or tram station, so he guessed he could get full schematics from Arboretum Main Control.

He checked his waypoint to ensure he would head in the correct direction, and started at a steady jog along the path into the line of trees. Light suffused the path under the canopy, dim and grey. The trees were thickly set, with undergrowth crowded between the trunks. Vines hung from branches overhead, and he saw that entire sections of the forest were invaded with these vines. He could not wander off the path- -he would be ambushed or slowed considerably, neither of which he had time for.

His mind wandered as he jogged along. What dangers would he face here? Would he be able to access the main controls for the tram to the government sector? Would he find Ellie, Noah, and Greggs safe and one piece? And sane? And what had happened to the damn Marker squad? What about his mother? Was that another trick? What about his father and the St. Christopher medallion that Samson had given him? So many questions and no answers to any of them. How had surviving the Necromorph outbreak on the _Ishimura _turned into a fight against an entire belief system?

A fork in the path up ahead slowed him. His waypoint indicated he should veer left, but when he did, his eye twinged. He stopped. Listened. Nothing but the silence of the trees. Cautiously, he continued forward around a bend and stopped again. In front of him were rock formations, cloaked with green moss and those vines he'd observed in the forest earlier. The eye-pain rose to a crescendo. Something was in those rocks. Going around wasn't an option, nor was finding an alternate route. He'd take it nice and slow. Continuing forward with careful steps, he lifted the plasma cutter.

Inside the rocks was claustrophobic. The crevice between them was narrow and at points, he had to shuffle sideways in order to push his shoulders through. Everywhere was slick with a type of green fungus, but whether it was Necromorphic in nature remained a mystery. Then he came upon a pocket of open area, an oblong clearing from the rocks. Several corpses reposed in a clump to the right, and he noticed a blue audio log lying among the bloodied, torn limps.

He TK'd it to his hand then downloaded it to his RIG. "This is Dr. Jane Bennett," said a woman's high voice. The fear was raw in her tone. "Arboretum biologist. Changes are occurring within the dome. Unexplained, invasive changes to the biology here. The animals and plants are…I don't know…_reacting _to some outside variable. The dome is self-contained and has been for decades. Nothing of this sort has ever been reported. So it is my belief that there is something inside the moon that has had such drastic effects to the environment, or even…something that Director Daniels hasn't informed us of. Whatever _is_ happening, is happening too fast for us to correct. The balance is off…it's off."

Interesting. Isaac turned back to the path he had been following, weaving between the juts of uneven, greenish stone. His eye pulsed harder and he reminded himself to listen and move with extreme care. Around one outcropping, he discovered the path widened to about two meters across. Lots of detritus covered the ground and vines draped a curtain over part of the stone. He eyed the area, wondering where the attack would originate. His best plan would be to keep the stone to his left and avoid the openness of the path as much as possible. Then, before he started, he TK'd some of the clutter- -a few loose rocks, some old logs lying about- -and a squeal tore the air.

Three swarms flip-flopped toward him, having hidden in the scattered debris. The foot-sized blobs scrambled over themselves to get at him. He backed up, put the groupings in stasis and picked them apart. A waste of ammo, but those fuckers grabbed a hold and didn't let go. When he'd cleared the area, he checked matters with his eye, and found it rang with jabs into his brain. The danger wasn't over yet. Isaac edged along the natural stone barrier, keeping the majority of the crevice under surveillance.

The path continued to broaden until he reached the end of the rock formation. At what he saw, he groaned. A large meadow stretched many meters in front of him as if some divine hand had swept away the protective trees and undergrowth. Sitting nestled among another wave of green trees was a black mineral building. From here, he could see the sign indicating that it was the main control building for the arboretum. _Finally._ Of course, he couldn't waltz across the meadow. It was too risky to go into the open, his instincts said. He thought maybe he could circle around, but the tall grasses extended much further from side to side than it did in front of him. _But_ he couldn't waste precious time.

A deep, anticipatory silence had long since sighed across the meadow.

Isaac breathed, checked ammo and stasis, refilled both. Charging up his motivation, he jogged back a few steps, intending on a running jump into the field which would result in a dead sprint to cover across the gentle hills. He rolled his shoulder muscles, limbering up, and took up a starting position. I can do this, he thought, it'll be done and over with. Nothing will stop me. Just gotta go for it. Okay, countdown from three.

Three. He shifted his weight on his forward foot and cocked his arm, prepping to pump it backwards for balance and momentum.

Two. Couple more deep breaths to saturate his lungs with oxygen.

I can do this. I can do this. I can. I have to.

One…

_Go._

"_Wait!_" Nicole shouted, stopping him short with a few stuttered skips. She manifested beside him with her arm flung out across his chest. "Wait. Look there!"

A number of massive, coal-black forms hobbled upright from the tall grass in the field. They shook off grass and dirt, and from their bodies, Isaac could see they were the giant tripods. He knew they would charge aggressively, much like a brute, and lash out with a hidden whip attack. Instantly, he dropped flat to the ground. Had they seen him already?

The tripods bumbled around aimlessly, so no, they hadn't seen him. The long way around looked better, safer, but as if to remind him, the ground rippled as a tremulous rattle vibrated the air. All the thousands of glass panes shook like the bones of the dead clattering together. Over him, the dome continued to hold, but it would be a matter of time before the arboretum would burst like a bubble and expose the soft insides to the cold fury of deep space. As the moonquake continue to vibrate, the tripods in the field turned in frantic, confused circles. He'd never seen Necromorphs behave in any manner except malignant violence, and he knew he could use the moonquake to his advantage.

Springing up to his feet, he took a moment to gather his balance, and over the shaking, rumbling meadow, Isaac charged toward the main control station. He'd run for his life before over short distances- -he had the stamina for that when it was between living and dying- -but either because the last several hours had taken their toll on him or because of the quake and longer distance, he felt his lungs and leg muscles burn from exertion. The sprint slowed to a halting jog. He couldn't keep pace.

"You're halfway there," Nicole called. "Keep going."

Her encouragement pressed him enough he was able to put out a little spurt of speed. He'd covered about half the distance, the main control station looming dark and haunted in front of him, but still a symbol of safety and protection. His mind was so busy monitoring his breathing and forcing his legs to keep going, keep going, don't stop, that several seconds had passed before he noticed the absence of the low shudder of soil and mineral and loud, disharmonic shingling of glass.

And then the tripods spotted him.

In fear, his mind went blank. His body no longer needed prodding to fucking _go_. Behind him, the tripods screamed in unison. He had thirty meters to go. Twenty-five. Twenty. Fifteen. He was going to make it. Harder and harder his arms and legs pumped like well-oiled pistons. Nearly there. Nearly…

Pain exploded white stars behind his eyes and every functioning molecule in his body shrieked in agony. He couldn't be sure if he passed out, but when the dark blur clarified, he saw he'd been thrown some distance from the entrance of the building. The tripods closed in, enormous stalks of solid flesh ramming into the ground as they focused their attention on him. A cold calmness settled on him, something that numbed his pain and sharpened the muddle in his mind. He rolled, a hooked barb missing him by centimeters, and climbed to his feet. The yellow sac flashed at him; he had the shot and took it.

The tripod howled as a spray of fluid spurted- -it stumbled, stilled- -but Isaac's attention was on dodging and evading the whips and massive forearms of the other tripods. He'd stopped several in their tracks with his stasis, draining it, and concentrated his efforts on putting them down, but his luck was bad. Too many cloistered him, so he was forced to dance around. Ducking under them, zigzagging to the sides, he avoided the dangerous parts of the Necromorphs while sniping with the plasma cutter. Their size was their main disadvantage; he kept circling in and under them, using their mass against them. The steps he took were dangerous, but the sense of calm, the sense of _knowing _these creatures and predicting them, gave him the confidence he needed to make killing blows near misses instead.

Their rage and speed was difficult to match; out in the open, he knew he wouldn't last. Three times he was clear to run to the cover of the building, but each time, a tripod would lash out with a grabber and yank him off his feet, tossing him across the field in the opposite direction. It was those throws that saved him. Had the tripods dragged him, he wouldn't have been able to writhe out of the grip or kill the tripod before the others descended on him. Outnumbered and running low on ammo, Isaac realized he'd have to fall back to the rock formation to regroup. But in a terrifying show of strategy, the remaining tripods leapt in, effectively surrounding him.

Together, as one, they howled. Isaac felt their intent to kill radiating from their grotesque bodies and Marker-controlled brains. He twisted hard to the left as one shot out a grabber to secure his leg, but with them all centered on him, organized, he felt a pliant rope of muscle warp around his thigh. He was caught fast. It tightened, pulled, and swept him off his feet. Hooks extended, with them, the sick yellow pustules of weakness.

He wouldn't die without a fight. With only four shots left, he could maybe take out one. He aimed, finger squeezing the trigger. Vaguely he heard a low _whump_ under the hysterics of the tripods. The tripod that had his leg disintegrated into chunks of grey matter and black meat. In short order, the others surrounding him slowed, the glowing blue light of stasis wrapped tight around them. Isaac didn't wait. He scrambled to his feet and fled to the front doors of the building. Overhead, the sizzle of pulse rounds and the surge of a contact beam seared through the air.

The front doors opened their arms for him. Gratefully, Isaac tumbled in, panting in a slump on the floor. When he looked up, glowing displays of advanced sec-suits greeted him. In the dim light, the sec-suits were black with red inlay. He accepted a proffered hand, and as he got to his feet, the visor retracted to reveal a youthful, freckled face under a disarray of dark red hair.

"Mr. Clarke, welcome to the Arboretum Main Controls," said Alex Treyton. He pumped Isaac's hand, blue eyes snapping. "Glad you could make it."

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**A/N:** A long, exciting chapter to start off the new year! As always, if you have any questions or concerns, let me know. The next chapter will be published 01/12/13. See you then!


	21. Connections

**A/N:** Welcome back, everybody! I hope your first month of 2013 is going well. Please, enjoy!

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**Chapter Twenty-one: Connections**

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"Thanks for the welcome," Isaac replied, genuinely. He chinned the control to his visor and smiled with a gratitude shared by old friends. The members of the Marker team _were._ "You're a sight for sore eyes."

Leo's accent came from behind him. "And sore everything else, I should think. We had to watch you get tossed about out there. We tried contacting you to warn you, but we couldn't get a link going."

Grinning, Isaac turned and embraced Leo, who had put down her visor as well. Her ebony skin crinkled with a shining smile. "I have to admit, I was quite afraid for you," she said to him.

"_I_ was afraid for myself," he said in honesty.

Then a large mass slammed into the thick metal doors of the control station, startling the three of them into skittering backwards. The entire wall caved in with the impact, bulbous and cratered, the thick steel whining under the pressure as it buckled at the seams. Sparks flew from interrupted electronic connections. It wouldn't hold under the barrage of intense battering. Isaac flinched away as the tripod hurled itself against the barrier once more; a muffled _whump_ occurred under the ringing of metal, then a meaty explosion. Silence.

"Got the bastard," came a gravelly voice from over Treyton's open audio. Kaassen. "Trey, did you secure Clarke?"

Trey nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Bring him up. We need his expertise."

"Roger that."

Trey didn't delay with formalities or explanations. Isaac already knew that each of their RIGs featured the parasite, which shielded their signals from outside tracking. Their RIGs were also on a coded network of communication that EarthGov hadn't yet cracked, it seemed. Since leaving _Sweet Retribution_, Isaac and his team had been unable to contact the Marker team due to the Marker's signal interference. Now that he was in close proximity, he opened the comm to the Marker team's channel. Immediately, he heard Kaassen in the middle of giving fresh orders to the others. It was a relief to be connected to other people.

"Follow me," Trey said, waving Isaac down a broad corridor. "We're regrouping a few levels up."

"Are you all accounted for?"

"Surprisingly, yes," Leo answered him. For the time being, they kept their visors down. "Although, it's a miracle we've survived. Something crashed us into the station, which forced the emergency systems to lock down the quadrant. Necromorphs had already infested the area, so we fought our way out to a transportation hub, thinking we could work our way to the government sector. All the tram systems were down, destroyed or…offline because of EarthGov. There was a lot of scrambling around, shooting, panicking. I've never seen anything like it," she said. "We got trapped in here when a tremor rattled the arboretum's solar array panels out of alignment, so we were wondering who it was that had fixed everything."

Isaac wondered how much fear and terror she'd edited out. "Sounds like quite an adventure."

"When we're regrouped, your side of things," Trey said. "We've been monitoring the seismic activity and it's not looking good."

"I'm no geophysicist, but even I can tell those quakes are getting worse," Isaac agreed. "If it goes on for much longer, the moon'll shake to pieces."

They came to the end of the corridor. The interior did not seem destroyed; there were indications of a mad dash out of the control station. Litter here and there, trashcans and chairs knocked over, dropped cases and the like. Trey pressed the call button for the elevator, and immediately, they loaded up.

"Is it the Grey Marker causing the quakes?" Leo asked, quietly.

Isaac frowned. "That or something the Marker created."

The elevator stopped, drew open its doors, and Isaac walked a step behind Treyton and Leo into the nerve center of the Arboretum. The abandoned area was wide-open with labeled work areas against the walls. Desks and stations also clustered the middle of the room. Toward the front of the center was a bigger wall inset with vidscreens. Some vidscreens were offline, but the majority blinked with lights and requests and emergency notifications. A base took center stage, upraised to be seen, with a flickering image of a man standing at ease; Isaac surmised it was the artificial intelligence program designed to advise on and implement Arboretum commands.

At that base, blue-purple hair vivid, was Wren, her hands and fingers flying over the holographic keyboard. She was turned away and did not acknowledge them even as they approached.

"Getting anything from that AI?" Trey asked. Isaac stood off to the side gazing at the solemn-faced AI. Last time he'd dealt with artificial intelligence was the ANTI program installed in Titan Station's Solar Array, which had accepted commands from Tiedemann several times before Isaac had been able to shut it down.

Wren snorted. "Nada. This AI's locked tighter than EarthGov's prison sector. So far, there's no record of that tram line."

"Maybe we made a mistake," said Leo, coming to stand beside Trey. "Things are pretty messed up here."

"No. There is a tram that will take us to gov-sec," Isaac interrupted. "It's under our feet, or at least, that's what I was led to believe."

Their conversation was interrupted with the opening of some bay doors and the stomp of quick-moving feet. Two more forms in the red and black sec-suits filed into the control center, and likewise lowered their visors. It was Calhoune and Kaassen. Both were sweating, but Calhoune was flush with the exercise and Kaassen looked drained, his face pale and lined with exhaustion. Wren did not cease her work on the AI's program.

"What's the situation?" Kaassen asked, pinning Isaac with those unfathomable black eyes.

Isaac appreciated the bluntness. "Daniels and her followers are holding Noah hostage. Greggs and Ellie are also being held in gov-sec. A secret tram line is located around here somewhere that should take us to the EarthGov facility." Then he remembered the chip and reached for it in his back pocket. "Before his capture, Noah acquired some data from Daniels' personal files. He thought perhaps it could help the Clarke Faction's cause."

Only then did Wren stop what she was doing. She snatched the chip from Isaac's outreached hand and whirled to the console to stick it into a free slot. The working vidscreens blinked to life and as the group turned to face them, the screens went white and showed the EarthGov symbol underneath a password box. Wren didn't pause as her fingers raced over the keyboard. In a matter of seconds, the screen switched to a list of files and documents, all labeled 'Oracle'.

"Oracle?" asked Calhoune. "What the hell's bells _is_ that?"

Wren clicked on the most recent file name: Oracle_Subject221. The screen changed, showing a picture of a woman in her late twenties with long, brown hair pulled back and soft grey eyes. Her name across the top was Weller, Lexine M. Height, weight, complexion, blood pressure…all the usual medical data was there. But as Wren continued to scroll through the file, Isaac noticed a running record of entries- -it went back three years almost to the day of the _USG Ishimura'_s fall to Necromorphs. He couldn't understand the medical jargon used, but he knew that this girl was like him…a survivor used for EarthGov's sick purposes.

"Some sort of top secret government program, I think," Wren answered, clicking back to the original contents page. "The data here is massive…what in…? This goes back at least a century!"

There was a cold tension in the air as they each realized what they'd stumbled on and how important it was for them to decode and understand it. The Clarke Faction had been formed for the purpose of exposing the corruption in the government, to correct a self-serving organization filled with greedy, power-hungry religious fanatics. EarthGov's play for the Marker technology and power was expected, but experimenting on innocent lives, for much longer than any of them had anticipated…now it had become personal. It was Kaassen who broke the ice.

"We don't have time to analyze it. Can you make copies and store it on your RIG? We may need that data as a bargaining chip."

"No go, Major," replied Wren. "The sheer size of the data will overload any single RIG system. I can only make another copy of it to a second chip."

"Do it. Then get back to finding out about that tram." Then the older man turned to the rest of them. "Our objective is the Marker. Where it is, how to get there, and then destroying it."

"What about Ellie and Greggs? And Noah?" asked Leo. "Surely our people should be rescued."

"I doubt EarthGov knows about you," Isaac interrupted, his brain working to clarify an idea. "They believe I'm working alone and that Greggs and Ellie were my team to find Noah or destroy the Marker. At least, if they're confident they've cornered me, they won't interrogate Greggs and Ellie. I could pose a distraction to EarthGov. You slip in, destroy the Marker…which'll give me the opportunity to escape with the others."

"EarthGov will have eyes on everything. We'll have to disable their security system," Trey pointed out.

Calhoune, who'd so far been silent, rubbed his chin. "We have that gunship I stole docked on the other side of the arboretum. We could blast our way in."

"We're getting ahead of ourselves." Kaassen cut them off. "There are too many opportunities for fuck-ups in attacking the facility outright."

"Well," said Leo, "we may be able to sneak in through a docking station, and overtake R-Sec. That was our original plan. Wren can get the necessary codes once she's inside EarthGov's network."

"I can command their attention by taking the tram line." Isaac remembered the welcoming committee Tiedemann had used to receive him. A whole unit of soldiers had had their sights trained on the lethal CEC engineer Isaac Clarke. "Daniels won't want me to slip through her fingers, so she'll have her security focus its attention on me. I'll bargain for Ellie, Greggs, and Noah."

"And then what? Send them back here?" asked Kaassen curtly. "There's no guarantee that Daniels will release those prisoners. And if she does, where will they go?"

Isaac smirked. "She will. I have valuable information to give her on her daughter. I can bargain for their removal off the station via a shuttle that Daniels is sure to have. Once they're out, kill the Marker."

"Light fuse, run away," murmured Calhoune from his position at the side. "Lucky we have Trey with us."

For the first time since his arrival, Isaac noticed the rectangular plastic case Treyton carried on his back. The case was solid black, thick, and covered Trey's aqua health meter. Trey nodded, but remained serious. At Isaac's gaze, he said, "I was a bomb specialist in the Marines when I served. I've got a very special surprise that'll blow that Marker to dust."

Just then, Wren tossed her arms over her head. "_Eureka!_"

Everyone put their attention on the young woman at the AI base. "Finally. I've gotten the schematics." Again the vidscreens blinked and a full layout of the control station spread out in green glory in front of them. Wren spoke as she zeroed in on the tram line, the computer keeping pace with her commands as she sectioned-off and enlarged. "It looks like the line is located under the ground floor several meters. There's one elevator that will take us…but…that can't be right!"

The others crowded up to the vidscreens, their eyes taking in the straight lines, boxes, and symbols that indicated various nooks and crannies of main control. Isaac's engineer's eye picked up what had caused Wren's surprise.

"The tram is under water," he said. "It's been flooded, probably from all the quakes. Is there anyway we can drain it?"

Wren's fingers squirreled over the keyboard for another second or two. "Yes, but we can't do it from here. It has to be done on site."

"So where is this fucking elevator?" asked Kaassen.

Isaac took in the schematics and gestured. "The floor plan is showing us that the elevator doors should be here. Wren, try booting up the AI program. It'll have the access we need to get through."

"On it."

"The rest of us should scavenge for ammo and supplies," he said, turning to the others. "Once we're in gov-sec, we won't be making any pit stops."

"Good call," answered Kaassen. "We'll go in pairs. Trey, you guard Wren. Isaac, you're with Calhoune and Leo, you're with me. We maintain radio contact at all times and report any 'morph activity. Gather as many supplies as we can and bring them back here. Wren?"

The layout of the underground, underwater tram switched to a map of the building with lines and labels to different, noteworthy sections. "There are four floors. We haven't had the time to secure all of them. We're currently on the fourth, so that leaves the ground through the third. Clarke and Calhoune, you're on the ground and first floors. Leo and I'll check the second and third floors. Stay tight."

Isaac's eye pain flared up; he winced and pressed a couple fingers to his temple. He hadn't paid attention to the headache throbbing at his forehead, but it was there and exacerbated by the sharp, shooting pain of his ocular nerve. A familiar rumbling rolled through the building. The metal inside clanked together as Isaac and the others reached out hands for balance. Lights dimmed as electrical wiring loosened. He could tell that the quakes were getting progressively worse and longer-lasting.

"_Guys!_" shouted Wren over the racket. "_We have a problem!"_

Isaac heard it over the sound of the quake: the shattering of thousands of glass panels was distinguishable a second before alarms went off. Red and orange blinked in time with the wail of the alarm systems.

"Warning. Warning," said the main control's voice. "Sudden decompression has occurred. Please remain calm as lockdown commences." A pause, then, "Warning. Warning. Lockdown failed. A malfunction has occurred. Proceed to designated emergency stations."

"Wren!" shouted Kaassen over all the noise. "Get that goddamn elevator open, _now_!"

She didn't stop to respond. Outside there was a prolonged roar- -air forcibly sucked out- -and combined with that sound was the groan of metal as it bent out of shape, twisted, and was yanked from bolts. A cold sweat broke out on his skin. He was powerless to assist. Surely, thought Isaac during this pandemonium, the designers would've planned for sudden decompression, but then the following announcement proved that no, they had not.

"Warning. Warning. Main control's structural integrity is compromised. Please remain calm as lockdown occurs." More metal whined and groaned under the alarms, quake, and roar of air. "Warning. Warning. Lockdown failed. A malfunction has occurred. Proceed to emergency stations. Manual lockdown recommended. Full decompression in thirty seconds."

As the computer's voice began to count, Isaac couldn't help counting with it. He'd put up his visor, so that when decompression did occur, he'd have five minutes of air before asphyxiation. With fifteen seconds to go, the A.I., quite simply, awoke. It gazed at Wren and said in a voice barely discernable over the cacophony, "Welcome to Rhea Station Arboretum Main Control. Oh, dear. It seems as though there is an emergency. Do you have clearance for access to that elevator you are trying to open? You do realize I'll have to report your illegal activity."

"_Fucking open the doors!_" Wren screamed. Her fingers were a blur over the keyboard. "_I will personally wipe your data core, you stupid piece of binary code_!"

Unperturbed, the A.I. continued. "There is no need for insults. Oh. You have hacked around my security protocols and have implemented a virus. Excuse me for the delay. Please step onto the lift."

At the base of the A.I. the floor sank in a few centimeters, and sliding doors parted to reveal a platform. Holographic lights indicated where to stand. Everyone loaded up. The platform sank at a rate that was aggravatingly slow, and as the countdown reached 'one', the doors overhead clunked together, slipping the team into darkness and quiet. The holographic lights and visor displays illuminated the tight space- -the elevator was not made for six people and they were crowded shoulder to shoulder. But the relief was palpable.

"Good work, Wren," Trey said. "You saved all our asses."

Calhoune clapped her thin shoulder. "Brilliant hacking skills, darlin."

"Yeah, no problem," she answered to the general laudations. Isaac heard the waver in her voice and understood she must be sick with relief. "EarthGov needs to upgrade their firewalls."

The ride down underground was long and nerve-wracking, as tremors continued to shiver through the core of the moon. The tremors were not as violent as the quakes had been, but the constant movement of the ground nerved up Isaac. He knew their chance for rescuing Ellie was narrowing by the second. And he admitted to himself that she was his most important priority.

"We have arrived," the A.I. announced as the elevator settled to a stop and the walls around them peeled away. The A.I.'s base was set immediately outside the elevator. "I am responsible for controlling the tram. As you can see, the line is underwater. I am unable, at this time, to drain the facility."

They had stepped onto a deck that overlooked a rectangular pool, small enough for it to look like a flooded elevator shaft. Dark waters sloshed uneasily against the deck, small waves slopping onto the floor at their feet. There was no indication of a tram line, no lights to show where it would be located. Dim recess lights were set in the walls, and in the corner was a functioning store and bench. The lights to their visors flashed side to side as they looked around, and their aqua meters stood out against the darkness.

The A.I. flickered a couple times, a flame buffeted by winds. "I am sorry, but Director Daniels has shut me down from the government sector. Goodb-b-b-bye." And the A.I. blipped out of existence.

"Shit," Calhoune said, turning to Wren. "Can you reboot it?"

Wren lifted her palms helplessly. "They have remote override commands and a higher security clearance than my virus was able to compensate for. So, no. I can't reboot it."

Isaac squinted at the water lapping at the deck, thinking it would make sense to put manual control where it wasn't easily accessible. Trey stepped up beside him.

"What do you think?" he asked.

Isaac crouched and dipped his hand into the tepid water. "The manual controls are down there. Our suits can function in water, right?"

"Yeah," Trey said, catching onto Isaac's idea. "But I don't like it."

Leo came to stand behind them. "What're you two discussing here?"

"Clarke thinks it's a good idea is to dive down there," replied Trey.

"I didn't say it was a _good _idea," Isaac retorted. "And do we have any other choice? The tram won't function in water. We have to drain the excess."

"He has a point," Leo said to Trey. "How far down _there_ are the controls?" She paired her question with a mild gesture to the quiet water.

"I think I'll have five minutes to find out," Isaac replied, standing, and facing the others. "I'll go down and have a peek."

Wren stepped forward. "I'll go with you. You may need to hack the controls."

"We'll cover you up here," Kaassen said, shifting his contact beam in his arms. "But we won't be much help if things go fubar."

"Then let's hope things don't go fubar," replied Isaac. Then he nodded to the store. "We better gear up before we continue."

Isaac had several of the semiconductors to sell, which gave him enough credits to purchase more ammo for all of them, plus a few medicinal supplies and stasis. He also bought two small tanks of air, enough for another five minutes of breathing time. There was enough left over for the purchase of a few power nodes, which he used to amp up his plasma cutter. It now had enough juice for more shots, and less delay between those shots. He checked everyone's weaponry, made repairs as necessary, and ensured the alternate firing mechanisms were functional. During this time, the tremors continued to rock the underground facility at alarming frequency.

"Okay. We're set." He and Wren took up a position at the water's edge. Powerful flashlights were clipped to their suits, but still, the water looked glassy, endless, and terrifying. "We'll keep radio contact as we go down. Everyone stay calm."

Trey held out a hand, which Isaac accepted. "Good luck, Clarke. Wren."

Isaac glanced around at the group, whose faces were hidden behind the display of their visors, their bodies in stances that denoted nothing but neutrality, but he knew they wanted him to succeed.

"See you in ten," he said.

Before he could second-guess himself, he folded his arms and fell backwards. His shoulders took the brunt of the impact of the water; an explosion of bubbles beside him indicated Wren had entered as well. He rolled easily and angled downward. Everything was muffled except his breathing and the pulse of his heart. Wren's health meter and her visor glowed in the darkness with his, and with the flashlights, it was bright enough for him to track the sides of the shaft. As they dove, their suits worked to keep their bodies protected from temperature and the weight of water as they dropped several meters.

"It's so quiet," Wren whispered. "I can hear…"

After a couple seconds waiting for her to finish her sentence, Isaac prompted her. "Hear what?"

"It's crazy."

"_I'm_ crazy," he told her and elicited a laugh from her. "Voices?"

She sighed. "Yeah. I've been hearing them since we got here. I didn't tell the others."

"Have you hallucinated yet? Usually it's a family member," he told her. "For me, it was-"

"How's it looking?" Kaassen asked over the audiolink, interrupting them.

"We're down four meters so far and following the shaft. Nothing so far." Isaac checked his oxygen meter. "We've got another four minutes on our suits before we have to use the tank."

When Kaassen signed off, Wren grabbed his arm, clenching her fingers enough that he could feel it through the suit. "Do you think we'll get out of this alive?"

He wanted to reassure her and he wanted the reassurance to be the truth. Instead, he settled for the truth he'd felt in his heart since coming to Rhea. "I don't know. It's different than on Titan or the _Ishimura_. The forces the Marker uses are much more powerful. Like with each new Marker made, it becomes…" He groped for an adequate word.

"Godlike," Wren breathed.

The wall suddenly stopped, and so their conversation ended. The area widened considerably, and the water was clear enough for their lights to ghost over a large, open deck another ten or so meters further down. The elevator shaft had been cut from the far side of the deck. Several bodies floated in the water. A station sat to the side and in the middle of the opposite wall was a dark, large hole, which was the tram line to gov-sec. He made out the hull of the tram as well as the large, red-coated hatches on the far wall of the deck. There were five altogether. Isaac angled towards them.

"We've found a way to drain off the water," he said. "Let's see if it works."

At his shoulder, Wren kept pace as he swam to the hatches. He opened one of them and underneath was a very large wheel. It obviously for two men to turn, and thankfully was labeled as "Water Output Pump"- -engineer-speak for 'water drainage'. It further stated, on an instruction sign over the wheel, that in case of emergency flooding, to crank it counterclockwise. Then it showed how to do it. Isaac waved Wren over.

"We'll have to crank together. On three," he said as her hands closed around the wheel. "One, two…"

But he never made it to three.

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**A/N: **Thanks again for taking the time to read the story. I'm so glad that you all are finding enjoyment out of reading it. BTW, I finally read _Dead Space: Martyr_, which is the origins book for the Black Marker. It gave me some...fresh ideas, shall we say. Hopefully, I'll see you all again next week, 1/19/13.


	22. Gov-Sec

**A/N: **Dear Readership: I listened. Enjoy.

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**Chapter Twenty-two: Gov-Sec**

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As Isaac sunk into a muzzy blanket, weightless and yet weighted, he thought about the pain. The strange thing about pain was that it can hit your whole body hard, send incredible amounts of sensation from each point, become a living, thriving entity inside you, and in another second, you can forget it. Or ignore it. Isaac was getting good at ignoring the pain that dogged him no matter his state, conscious or unconscious. But he was not the type of person to leave it be. No, his next thought was where had the pain come from? It wasn't head-pain. It was an all-over deal, as if his entire body had been tenderized.

Vaguely, he heard his name called, and woke up from his faint.

"Isaac! Isaac, stay with me!" Urgency, paired with panic. "C'mon! I need you here!"

The voice was muted under the thundering pound of a headache, the raw screaming of his bones and muscles, but he struggled to get himself aware. His entire world was hazy and at first he didn't understand. Then he remembered quite suddenly that he was underwater with Wren at the water valves to drain the underground tram. His pain shrank away under the awareness that Ellie was captured in EarthGov and she needed him.

Wren had her arms wrapped around his chest, struggling to swim with the added weight. "Let me go. I'm fine," he said over audio. He hated to lie. "What's going on?"

"Something's in the water with us," she told him. Shakiness rattled her words. Her death-grip constricted his chest, but she released him a moment later. "I didn't get a good look at it."

Some dim running lights had turned on which barely illuminated the water. The water wasn't cloudy, but it was dense and dark where they were. Shadows fell across the far sides of the cavern, and as Isaac looked on, he could see the flicker of a smaller shadow weaving in and out of the dim, wavering light. He and Wren had switched on the flashlights attached to their suits, and just outside the beam's reach, something glided by, something that was contorted, bulbous and finned and all manner of dangerous.

"_Shit_," Isaac said, startling back. He rolled over in the water and began steady strokes to keep pace with Wren. The closeness of it shocked him. "What the hell is that thing?"

"Yeah, that's what I was talking about. The others are waiting for us topside," she told him. "Dammit, look there!"

She stopped her swimming to gesture to the elevator shaft that would allow them to surface to air and the rest of the team. But circling in and out of the shadows were two or three (he couldn't be sure at this distance and depth) more of what he felt sure were aquatic Necromorphs. In the few seconds they had hesitated, one Necromorph detached and swam in their direction, an ominous and terrifying prospect in front of them.

"It's coming right for us," said Wren. "What do we do?"

"Get out of the way." Isaac noticed that below them a few meters were the tracks for the tram. The tram looked to be jacked up for repairs and maintenance but there was some space between its belly and the track. As a good a place as any to hide. "Swim down!"

He angled his body to the dark crack and felt Wren swim evenly beside him. Panic was very close to showing, clutching at his throat, as he felt slowed and powerless under the weight of the water. A sound, a sort of high-pitched wail, came from behind them. Isaac dared a peek over his shoulder. The fish Necromorph was right behind them- -it might've picked up speed, but he couldn't tell- -a dark and sinister shadow in the water. It was too close to out-swim. He didn't know what to do, so he reached out and shoved Wren with as much power as he could muster.

She went one direction; he, the other. The fish-thing rushed between them, close enough to brush against Isaac's shoulder and whap him with a fin. He spun out of control, managing to right himself in time to see another charge forward. Vulnerable, out of options, he brought up his plasma cutter. He had no idea what would happen, since being an engineer did not require him to understand plasma's complexities and properties. He hoped whatever happened, it wouldn't kill him.

The swimming Necromorph closed in like a shark sensing blood in the water. Adrenaline spiked his pulse. Isaac waited until it was within a couple meters before firing. A muted crack sounded then a rush of bubbles followed. Simultaneously, he was thrown backwards while the swimmer was blasted away in the opposite direction by a shockwave, apparently generated by the plasma discharge. His suit compensated for the movement, and as he adjusted himself, he saw the swimmer twitch with nightmarish spasms that seemed like it was breaking from the inside out. After a moment, it exploded in a giant _FWOOSH_!

Well, that was interesting. He glanced around, but couldn't find Wren or the other swimmers. From the corner of his eye, movement flicked.

"Behind you!"

The warning came a split second too late. Out of the dark, a large, sinuous tail whipped out and lashed him across the chest. He hollered in pain and surprise, and struggled to regain his senses as he flipped head over heel from the powerful blow. His head clanged off something. Stars crawled across his vision as he floundered, unable gain his bearings. Things were too dark and he was convinced he was going to drown if he didn't get to open air. He wanted to claw off his visor and suck in fresh air, but a hand caught his wrist.

"I've got you," Wren said. "Relax."

His senses returned and he quit struggling as she towed him. The swimmers had closed in, but Wren drew him between a metal construct, much like a caged alcove, jutting from the cavern wall. Towards the back of the small area, green light glowed with the O2 emblem. Wren put him alongside the dispenser and hooked him up. On the inside of his visor, he watched his oxygen meter go red to green, and the horrid feeling of suffocation wore off.

"Wren? Isaac? Do you copy?" The Major's voice crackled at them. "Do you copy?"

"We copy," replied Isaac. "Sorry about that. We have…complications."

Briefly, he explained the situation. Kaassen was silent through the duration. Then he said, "We're coming down."

"No. You won't make it from the shaft to cover." Isaac looked over to Wren, who floated patiently beside him. "No, let me and Wren figure out what to do."

"I don't like it."

"You don't have to. We have oxygen and some tools down here." Maybe. Hopefully. "If things get desperate, we'll talk then."

Kaassen would not be deterred. "We should be with you."

"We can work it out. Trust us. Trust _me._"

Finally, Kaassen seemed to accept that and signed off, amid much grumbling. Isaac sighed and wished he could rub where his temples throbbed. Now that he had time to think, his abused ribs hurt him to even breathe. Wren was no longer at his elbow. Instead, she had pulled herself to the decking and was rummaging around some cases.

"What've you found?" he asked her. He positioned himself at the small entrance of their hidey-hole to peek out. He counted four bodies that moved like sleek machines, not far but not close to where they'd taken cover. "Anything good?"

"I scored big time," she said and chuckled. "Look at this baby."

He turned to see what she had. In her hand was a compact gun with two main parts. The grip melded the trigger into a stock that ended in three barrels protruding from a rotating mechanism. Under these barrels, parallel with the grip, was a thick slot holder. After a moment, he realized what it was.

"A rivet gun? You sure that'll be useful?"

She grunted. "If you haven't noticed, we don't have to dismember those things. I got a good look at one when they were occupied with you. They've got that gross yellow stuff growing on their heads. One shot with this, and it's good night."

"Makes sense." He was familiar enough with the rivet gun to know that the mechanisms were internal and would function properly in water. Floating near the entrance of their protection, he wondered what the hell to do next. The swimmers had circled closer, close enough that he saw the bubbled infection that warped the creatures' heads. One moved languidly out, banked, and charged. "Get back! They're trying to get in!"

Isaac and Wren drew further back into their protection and watched with sick amazement as the swimmers, one after another, slammed into the cage, rattling it. The crack was slim enough that the swimmers could not get at their prey. Thankfully, no matter how they wiggled, they could not slip through. Wren leveled the rivet gun, eager to try her new toy, but Isaac held her back. The swimmers were too close; there was no guarantee that once hit, they would withdraw at a safe enough distance so that he and Wren would not be injured in the resulting explosion.

"What's our plan? We can't wait in here forever," Wren said when the swimmers took to hitting the cage with their tails. "This noise is driving me crazy!"

"Working on it," he told her. Each time a wham occurred, his headache deepened. "I feel like I've seen these before." He closed his eyes. So much had happened. Had it been on the _Ishimura?_ Titan? No, he was sure the memory he wanted was from Rhea. A few hours ago. Maybe longer? Around the time he'd met Kobi. Then he grasped it. The koi ponds in the Commons. "Exposing them to oxygen will kill them. We have to drain the water."

"Already I hate your plan," she said drily. "Let's hear the rest of it."

"One of us has to get to the valves and open them. The other has to distract the swimmers," he said.

"And?"

"No 'and'. That's it."

"Oh, God. Sounds like suicide." She sighed over the link. "We should refresh our oxygen before going out there. Who gets to be the distraction?"

"I'll do it," he said, thinking that Wren was much like Ellie: grace under pressure. "It's my idea."

As he refilled his oxygen, he remembered when he'd been five and Octavia had taken him to swim lessons. The swim lessons were not at a pool, but at a lake that was maintained and perfectly safe. But Isaac's five year-old brain interpreted the dark green water as too mysterious, and terrified, he'd refused to go in even when the other kids sloshed up to their chests where the instructor was. No matter the gentle urgings from his mother, he'd grabbed her leg and would not budge. He remembered that she'd sighed and stepped to the water. Then she kept on going in, slacks, shirt, shoes and all, and Isaac let her go, his toes touched by the warm water. On she waded until she was with the instructor, and she smiled at Isaac so genuinely, that he was finally convinced it was fine to go out.

"See," she said, helping him to her side, "sometimes we have to trust that it will be okay, even if we're afraid."

"Isaac?"

"Hunh?"

"Are we going at the same time, then?" asked Wren.

Thoughts interrupted, he came back to the cold watery pit and wrapped his head around what he was about to do. He would swim out, use the tram as cover, and draw the swimmers out of their fixation on the entrance of their little cage. "I'll go first. Wait until it's clear before swimming to the valves."

"Good luck, then," she said. "You'll need it."

"Thanks."

If he hesitated to steel himself, he would find a million reasons to stay put, so he planted his feet against the flooring and coiled his leg muscles to power a spring into action. It gave him the necessary momentum to fly forward, splitting the water rapidly in the correct direction. He'd kept an eye on the swimmers. They took the bait and broke formation to wander towards him. They weren't close, but he heard the sonorous wails as they converged around him. He concentrated on even, broad strokes that angered his ribs and heightened the pain. The tram was mere meters from him. One ventured close, sizing up Isaac as a potential threat, before circling around again.

The charge would come next; he was sure of it. Lo and behold, the adventurous swimmer swept its elongated tail fin back and forth. Isaac stopped his even swim, but brought up his cutter. He waited, calculating the correct angle, as the swimmer neared closer before firing. Again, the muted crack was paired with a flurry of bubbles and a shockwave that shoved the swimmer backwards. Isaac rode the momentum down to the tram, dropping his feet down to magnetically attach to the tram's roof. He concentrated on the swimmers' movements, timing evasive steps to blasts with his cutter which exploded the Necromorphs one by one.

He had a triumphant moment when he thought he'd cleared house. "Wren, how're we looking?"

"I've got them all turned, but the whole thing won't go without some sorta relay switch. I'm working on…oh, _shit_."

More bad news, he just bet. "You okay?"

"_Jesus_. A whole bunch of those swimmer-guys, like, _poured_ out of a hole in the wall." Static crackled the link and he strained his eyes in the murky water. He could make out the shapes of sleek, shark-like shapes weaving in and out of light. His heart rate had not slowed since open conflict with the swimmers, and his breathing was harsh in his ears. "They don't seem to notice me."

"Find that relay switch. I'll hold the fort as long as I can."

"Roger."

These swimmers knit a circle around him, long, low wails chorusing, and swam a meter outside of clear vision, but he felt their presence through the Marker's connection. They had not paid Wren any attention, so that might mean they hadn't noticed her or it might mean they wanted to focus their full force on him. Whatever the case was, he didn't stand a chance in the open like this and he could never outmaneuver them. Their size and power gave him an idea, and a slim chance.

He made a move to drop off the side of the tram's roof, but several of the swimmers detached and charged, as he hoped. Isaac had a good idea that there were a few creeping behind him, so he jolted into action, launching upwards at a group crossing over his head. One swimmer didn't see him coming up under it, and he managed to hook his hand to a filmy dorsal fin as it glided by.

The swimmer bucked and rolled and sped through the water. Isaac kept his grip, digging his fingers into the bone and malleable flesh. It circled around to another cluster of them, close enough that he blasted them with his cutter. His idea was to use the shockwave to detonate the explosive infection. If he was right, his actions would set off a chain reaction, which would even the playing field.

The backlash from the force veered the swimmer sideways- -his concentration was on the drifting figures behind him. He felt, rather than heard, the rapid expansion of gas as multiple swimmers burst.A white cascade of bubbles shot upwards. Then several smaller, rapid muted explosions reached his ears and more clouds took shape where once there were Necromorphs.

He'd been too intent on his experiment. The swimmer that he'd clung to suddenly lurched; a meaty thud resulted as it rammed its head into a wall. Time to abandon ship. He scrambled to get purchase with his feet and coiled his entire body into the leap. Behind him, the swimmer exploded, and a rush of water impacted him, carrying him along. But as he swam, he couldn't tell where he was in the cavern. None of the shadowy shapes that rose around him looked familiar. He didn't think the swimmer had gone very far.

Harsh lights blinked on. He'd been treading water, trying to discern his surroundings, anxiety increasing. The lights were to either side of him and clear enough that he saw he was in the tunnel for the tram, of which the opening was a few meters behind him.

"I've got it!" Wren told him triumphantly. "Water level is decreasing."

"In the nick of time." He began swimming back to the cavern. His oxygen wasn't critical, but it was getting low. "Any Necromorphs left?"

She didn't answer immediately. "None that I can see. Whatever you did worked."

"Where are you?"

"There's a control station below the water valves. Also, another oxygen station is here," she added.

He'd come to the large cavern that housed the tram station. As he swam the perimeter, he felt the ebb and flow of the water as it slowly drained by the gallons. Wren waved at him from the controls, but when he was within a couple meters, she raised the rivet gun.

"Wren-!"

She fired. Physically, it was impossible for him to feel the wind from the projected nail. It didn't stop him from _thinking_ it nicked past his ear. There was a high pitched wail. Wren snapped out a hand and hauled him inside the small alcove. He glanced over his shoulder a second before water shoved them against one another. A swimmer had lain in wait, had nearly slammed into him. It would've pinned him against the wall and splattered him. Wren had saved his life.

Several more came out of hiding and tried attacking them, but he and Wren waited quietly, subdued from their near miss. Once the water was drained, the swimmers blew apart, booms echoing off the open walls. When the coast was clear, Isaac sent the lift for the others. Below was cool and dripping wet from the recent water. The deck from the tram had been specifically designed to cast off water, so no slippery pools had gathered where people would work.

After a quick inspection of the tram, Isaac oversaw Calhoune and Trey as they TK'd it back onto its line, since it had been unhooked for repairs as he'd thought. Some of the wires needed wiping down and connecting, but the tram was in overall good shape. Wren set to work at the controls, running a system's check to ensure a smooth, unimpeded passage to gov-sec, while Leo and Kaassen gathered supplies scattered around the deck.

Once everyone was organized, it was Calhoune up front, at the controls, with Wren beside him. Then the Major behind Calhoune, Isaac to his right, and behind them sat Leo and Trey. Two more seats were behind them, empty. The tram presented a margin of safety and so all the passengers had disengaged their visors. Each looked weary and drawn, with bruises and marks on their faces from recent fights.

"Let's lock'n'load, soldiers," Kaassen said, giving the go-ahead for Calhoune to engage the tram's systems. "Wren, what's our ETA?"

She glanced at her panel. "The ride takes about fifteen minutes, Major."

"Fifteen minutes, hunh? This facility on the other side of Rhea?" asked Trey from the back.

"Looks to be," she replied. "I don't find any tracking signals or surveillance. Guess they like to keep this route on the low-low."

Calhoune's hand was on the throttle. He glanced back, a smirk over his square jaw. "We ready, Major?"

"We are." Kaassen glanced over to Isaac, eyes hard. "Is the Marker talking to you?"

"Not continually. But it'll pick up the slack once we're closer. That's when things get dangerous."

"Son, things are already."

Calhoune had pushed forward the tram's throttle, and the sound of metal gliding over telekinetic rails was a strangely comforting one. The speed picked up. Isaac gazed out his window, though there was nothing to see. Occasionally some lights would flash by, but otherwise he could not see anything of significance and as they traveled, his sense of time and distance swiftly became obsolete.

"It's like being swallowed whole," said Leo at one point.

No one responded to her comment, each lost to their duties or thoughts, except when Kaassen asked for an update on their estimated time of arrival. Wren and Calhoune dutifully kept their attention on the controls. Nothing seemed to go wrong until the last leg of the trip.

"We're five minutes and counting, Major," Wren said. "Calhoune, you'd better ease back on the speed some. We don't want to smash into the facility."

"Ah, well, that's the thing," Calhoune replied. Isaac sensed the wrongness, a stirring of worry in his chest. "The brakes aren't responding."

Silence as each digested that bit of information. "_What?_" squawked Wren. "Nothing's showing on the monitors!"

In the overhead lights, Isaac saw the sheen of sweat on Calhoune's forehead, the furrowing of his brow. His eyes were fixed on the interminable tunnel in front of him. "_Screw_ what the monitors say. The damn brakes ain't working."

"We checked this fucking tram," Trey said quietly from the back. "Nothing malfunctioned during the system's check."

"Group hallucination or maybe sabotage?" suggested Leo.

Wren twisted her seat to face them. Her dark eyes were wide. "That's beside the point. What're we going to do about stopping?"

Guess we'll have to take our chances slamming face-first into the EarthGov facility, Isaac thought in the beat that passed. Instead he said, "Throw the emergency brake."

"We're going too fast. It'll derail the tram," Wren said. Her voice had risen with stress.

"Yeah, I vote with Isaac," interrupted Trey. "I'd rather derail than splatter against a fucking wall. Besides, the tunnel might be enclosed enough that it might not make a difference if we derail."

"And if we keep the speed up, we could possibly burst through the wall to the other side," Calhoune said. The silence eclipsed them as the image clarified in vivid detail in each of their minds.

Then Kaassen grunted. "Visors up, people. Calhoune, throw all the juice this tram has into forward throttle. We're punching through. Say hello the _proper_ way."

"Oh, my dear God," Isaac heard from over his shoulder. Leo. He glanced back in time to see her cross herself. "This is insane."

Calhoune threw forward the throttle. "YEEEE_HAW_!"

Isaac watched with sick fascination as the darkness fell away to bright, saturating light that penetrated the tram's front windshields. Nerves clenched his gut, and he breathed in order to relax his body for the impact. This wasn't gonna be good. In stunning speed, the end of the tram line drew closer, closer, closer, until Wren's scream pierced through an instant before the deafening crunch of metal enclosed him. It was hard to say what happened next.

He felt his shoulders slam into the harness, the lights in the tram went off, with the exception of the emergency warnings, and Isaac's entire world shook violently, wrenching his head from side to side. A prolonged, high-pitched shriek burned his ears- -metal torn asunder- -and when it seemed like an eternity of skidding, the entire hull slid to a stop. The first few seconds were disorientating until he gained his bearings.

They were upside down, the spray of glass glittering below them, and in the corner of his eye, he caught wavering light. Fire. Stiffly, Isaac popped the harness, dropped half-out his seat on his arm, and had to wiggle around to free his legs. Glass and bits of debris crunched underneath him. Nothing caught, so he reached over to help Kaassen out of his harness.

"Son…of a…_bitch_," Kaassen panted. "Don't worry 'bout me. Check the others."

Isaac glanced around, but too quickly. His head sang with whispers and pain and dizziness, so he had to turn his head by degrees. The others were coming around, little by little. He saw Trey release his harness, struggle to right himself, and crawl over to help Leo. Trey had it under control, so slowly, Isaac crawled on hands and knees through the debris, wiggling out of a window to find the front had been torn from the rest of the tram. How was that even possible? By all rights, they should be smears on the wall.

Wearily, he hoisted himself to his feet and looked around. Behind him was a tram-sized hole in the thick wall. Electricity sparked around the jagged mouth of metal. Lying, crumpled like a tin can, was the tram's front near the hole. It was unrecognizable, and he feared what he would find as he staggered over there. In the back of his mind, he felt the press of time…EarthGov would send soldiers and soon, the air would buzz with pulse rounds.

Lying half-in, half-out of the gruesome tangle was Calhoune. The impact had jerked his seat out of the floor, broken his harness, and when the tram had crashed through, he'd been flung out of the way. That had probably saved his life. Isaac, as carefully as he could in case Calhoune had fractures, checked the pilot's health meter. The color was a dark yellow, borderline orange, but indicated life and a cursory inspection of the suit showed no irreparable damage. Calhoune's AutoMed had kicked in, so Isaac dragged him out from the wreckage. Then he turned back to paw through the ripped metal pieces to find Wren.

The metal itself was hot and hissing, singing his fingers through the gloves of his suit, and the jagged edges were sharp. To prevent damage to his suit, he switched to telekinesis, flinging aside the debris. Several times he stopped and used his cutter to downsize stubborn metal so the TK could pick it up. Seconds ticked passed as Isaac aggressively peeled away the destroyed bits of the tram.

He uncovered her still strapped in her harness, arms and legs relaxed, dangling. Half her visor had been shorn away, which displayed part of her face and head. Her vivid hair was matted with fresh blood, but under that, he saw a sightless eye staring up at the ceiling. She was dead. With a tight lump in his throat, he unclipped her harness in order to wiggle a hand into her pocket. There, he withdrew between a couple fingers the data chip that had the downloaded and decrypted Oracle files. Then he relaxed his hold on the metal piece in his other hand to let it fall. It clanged dully, discordant. He returned to Calhoune, limp and unconscious where he'd been left.

"Don't you see, Isaac?" the Marker hissed, blinking in grey and silver agony, shucking upwards section by evil section in front of him, shivering darkness around his eyes. "You're the cause of their deaths. You make people die, Isaac." The ghost of his mother seared his vision. "When will you make us whole?_ Isaac, I'm waiting for you!_"

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**A/N:** I have one thing to say. Y'all better review the _fuck _out of this chapter. =) Next post date will be 1/26/13. See you then!

_Lite edits 04/05/13._


	23. Liberations and Complications

**A/N:** Welcome back, dear readers and lurkers. I hope all is well with you and that wherever you are, you are staying safe and sound from the elements. Please cozy up and enjoy!

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**Chapter Twenty-three: Liberations and Complications**

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When the Marker screeched, Isaac plugged his ears with his palms and winced- -the pain in his head was unbearable, like constant knives dragging furrows along his raw nerves. The vision washed away, and he glanced over to the others from Calhoune's side, his brain smarting from the Marker's increased influence. Leo, Trey, and Kaassen had extricated themselves from the wreckage and stumbled over to him.

"Calhoune's barely alive and Wren's dead," he told them. He was sorry he couldn't be gentle with the information, but time mattered. "Daniels' security forces will be here any moment. You need to focus your attention on destroying the Marker."

A wail of sirens interrupted him. They looked up at the ceilings as flashing orange lights lowered and a voice came over the intercom to announce a security threat. Isaac reached behind his shoulder blade, fingers prying loose the little parasite that cloaked his RIG identification code and yanking it free.

"That's not wise, son," Kaassen said, grabbing his wrist. "Put it back on."

Isaac shook his head and rose to his feet, dropping his arm from Kaassen's grip. "I'll lead them away from you as a distraction. Do your best to get to that Marker." He tucked the mechanical device into a back pocket for later use.

"Clarke…don't," Leo said. "At least let one of us go with you!"

"No." He'd already taken several steps away. "EarthGov will more than likely kill anyone with me. Besides, Necromorphs will follow that tunnel and invade this sector before long. Use the confusion to your advantage."

He brought up his cutter and jogged to the far doors, yanking free the siding to the terminal. A few quick hacks later, the doors opened to a long, smooth hallway filled with klaxon alarms and blinking lights. No soldiers clomped down towards him. Quickly glancing over his shoulder- -the Marker team had not moved from the scraggly half-circle around Calhoune- -Isaac slipped into the corridor. He really had no plan besides evade R-Sec for as long as possible; his only consolation was that they would take him alive, unlike Tiedemann's forces on Titan.

"Mr. Clarke." Director Daniels initiated a holovid in front of him. The old woman had the balls to look amused. "You are indeed a piece of work."

"I could say the same about you," replied Isaac as he slowed to peer around a corner before continuing on. "Taking my friends was a bad idea."

"Soon that won't make a difference. R-Sec is tracking your signal at this very moment. I do pray you do not give in too easily," she said, cackling. "My men have itched for this moment ever since you evaded them in the atrium."

Isaac snorted and cut to a side passage that seemed promising. "I'm sure you've encouraged them with fame and fortune. But if this Marker carries on for much longer, they won't have to worry about any of that."

"How darkly you view glorious Convergence. And wrongly, no less." She tilted her head. "Your mother has told me all about your spats over your joining Unitology."

He couldn't reply right away because he was wrist-deep in hacking another door…the door to a minor sector security station. It slid open, and as he expected, no one manned the monitors. A lucky break, at last. "You've had a heart to heart, I see," he replied, finally, as he examined the control panel to the security systems. "Has she explained her exact reasons for disappearing twenty years ago?"

"Altman calls us to duty in all times," she said with reverence, "and it is our obligation to the Marker to respond as it requires."

"Yeah, yeah. Listen, I love having these little chats, but I'm just so busy at the moment," he told her, lowering his visor to lock eyes with her, "and if I find you've harmed Ellie, I'll make sure you wish you hadn't."

She laughed carelessly. "Oh, Mr. Clarke, how you flirt." Her gaze became serious, fatal. "Next time we speak, it'll be in person. Ta-ta."

That bitch, Isaac thought with vitriol. She's so _smug _about it all. The security controls were easily accessible, even for an engineer, and he queued up the door locks, alarm systems, and surveillance cameras along a route to the Marker research facility. With a few key strokes, he opened the path for the Marker team and called Kaassen over audio.

"It's Isaac," he said. "I've accessed a security station and opened a direct path to the Marker. I'm sending you the route now."

"Got it," replied Kaassen a second later, "you'd better haul ass out of there. We left through a different door and missed R-Sec by the skin of our teeth."

"I'll keep that in mind. Hurry…there's not much-"

Rattling interrupted him as the moon quaked yet again. And this time, it was like a fuse had been lit. He'd experienced the Marker's power- -what the Unitologists called a Convergence event- -on Titan with the Gold Marker. How the air thrummed with a bass so deep it had quivered his stomach and lungs, how he had felt it inside his mind as the Marker gathered force. Though the metal of the security station clanked and vibrated and the holographic panels shuddered, Isaac could feel the Marker summoning its minions that had spread like a dark tide in Rhea Station.

"Isaac," purred the Marker directly to his ear, "where are you? I'm waiting. I'm waiting for you to make us whole."

The Grey Marker wanted its dead army at its feet.

Fingers jumping over the keyboard, Isaac set up a search for Ellie's RIG. Scant moments passed before he found her. She was being held in a cell at the far end of gov-sec, and flanking her on either side was Greggs and Noah. A small favor, then, that they were together in the same area. Security looked to be tight, waves patrolling halls, units gathered in open areas, but the Necromorphs would soon drain the security from these less important areas. He programmed the route into his RIG and quieted the alarm systems so they would trip when the Necromorphs began pouring into the sector. At least it would be a warning before shit hit the fan.

As Isaac slipped out of the security station and down a side hall, he had changed his plans. Surrendering to Daniels wasn't a viable option anymore. The Grey Marker's call to arms had essentially outranked Daniels' threat to Ellie. He knew if he couldn't get to her before the Necromorphs did, she wouldn't have a chance- -her, Greggs, and Noah.

The current corridor was absurdly quiet. Lighting had not been damaged, so he could see clearly until the next corner and the cheerful posters promoting EarthGov gave a friendly air to the sterile rigidity of the sector. His ears picked up everything- -the gentle hum of the air conditioner to the buzz of the lights to the slight click of the holographic panels as they switched to screensaver. He did not hear R-Sec boots treading on tiled floor or the nervous shift of soldiers as they readied their weapons.

This quietness left him with the distinct impression of being hunted by two predators. One, the Grey Marker and its entire kin. Two, Daniels and her EarthGov and Unitologist flunkies. The air carried a weight to it, the weight of anticipation, of _waiting._ It freaked him out enough that he continually glanced over his shoulder. Even though he knew looking behind him didn't make a bit of difference, it was something he could do besides throw up his hands in surrender.

Up ahead was a T-intersection of doors and after checking his waypoint, he exited the main area to a new one. Inside was a kidney-shaped research lab, with the majority of the space filled with counters that curled out towards the center of the room. A variety of research tools occupied the counters and Isaac picked out magnifying glasses, microscopes, tongs, and overhead lights that attached to the ceiling that hung down on retractable, flexible arms. He hadn't seen many plants since the arboretum, but tucked away in open spaces were some ficus, beautiful leafy-green things that had been obviously tended. His eye for detail picked out five seats amid the counters and he also caught glimpses of miniature Markers.

He passed into another chamber. This was some sort of transition area or observation room. Up above was a railed deck and machinery formed stalactites. The chamber was also empty. "This…seems familiar."

"Hm-hm." Nicole put a hand on the nearby wall, which had medical lockers mounted at even intervals. "It's similar to what you experienced on Titan."

Almost on cue, the Marker scythed a vision into his head. The world was filled with horrible screams and burning, burning _everywhere_, bodies sewn by corrupted flesh onto the walls, rank and oozing, and dead limbs reached for him, clinging to his shoulders and arms. Under the deafening soar of blood-curdling screams was the soft chime of _Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star_.

"I'm waiting for you, Isaac," the Marker threatened, howling around him. "_MAKE…US…WHOLE!"_

Then the vision faded and left him reeling with his ears ringing. A nerve behind his eye throbbed. His awareness seeped back in time for him to hear multiple feet pounding in military synchronization from behind the walls. Nicole grabbed his arm. "They're coming from over there!"

Three doors let out into the chamber. The one he'd come through, the one Nicole indicated, and the third, which was larger than the other two and across the long chamber. He really had no choice and so ran to the third door, which was unlocked, and scooted through a hair-second before R-Sec opened theirs. It was some sort of decontamination chamber. Opposite him was a locked door, no terminal with which to hack it. Outside the door behind him, he heard the security fanning out, punctuating the air with 'Clear!' and knew he had scant seconds before discovery.

"Go up, Isaac!"

Overhead was a ventilation duct, not maintenance, but one with a large fan. It had not been activated and as long as it wasn't it would be safe to travel through. Using his kinesis, he snapped off the vent cover. His heart pounded at the loud clang when the metal hit the floor. Adrenaline saved him. The opening was a meter higher than he could reach, so he crouched down and lunged upwards. His fingers managed to hook the edge of the frame around the fan. He kicked his legs as he concentrated on his arm muscles. Then scrambling madly, he hauled himself up and into the shaft above the fan. He swung his feet up a millisecond before the door opened and two R-Sec crouched at the entrance with weapons at the ready.

Isaac ducked into one of the shafts that split off in three different directions. The vents flexed under his weight so he froze and listened. In front of him was an unsatisfying view- -a close, darkened hole barely large enough to accommodate his shoulders and suit. He heard the officers talking amongst each other and the soft scraping of metal across the floor as he waited them out.

"He must've fled into the vents," said one.

"Nah. Couldn't have. He's not a tall guy…the ceiling's out of his reach." A pause. "See? I'm taller than he is and I can't reach it."

"How do you explain this grille lying on floor?"

"Things get knocked around all the time. It could've just fallen during the recent quakes."

"Or, as is his MO, he's fled into the vents. Maybe he's got a fucking plasma grapple or something to haul him up there."

"_Or_ you're giving Isaac Clarke more goddamn credits than he's worth. Man, I'm telling you, this is a maintenance issue, not our perp."

"I'm not buying it. I'm gonna radio this in and have them relay his current coordinates."

At that point, someone must've caught their attention, because they replied in tandem, "Sir, yes _sir_!" and hoofed it out of the decontamination unit. Isaac released the breath he realized he'd been holding. Close call. He wiggled through the vent, like a human-sized worm, in agonizing slowness, and the duct seemed to go on forever until his arm and shoulder muscles ached and sweat saturated his brow. He had no end in sight still, when a moonquake hit.

For some reason, this particular moonquake served to pump irrational fear through him. The vent amplified the sound of vibrating metal, which in turn, amplified his fear. He imagined the building collapsing in, sealing his fate in a metal coffin that he could not escape, suffocating him in the enclosed darkness. His stomach flipped with nausea and he had to _get out._ The quake continued to rumble- -and Isaac, through his cold fear of dying in this horrible place- -felt the shaft sway. Metal whined, part of the vent tore open in front of him, and then he was ejected from the opening to the floor several meters below when the shaft's supports crumpled.

He landed on his shoulder, jarring it painfully, and the metal parts of his suit cried as he skidded across a tile floor. More torn pieces of the duct rained down on him, but he was mainly unhurt when he thudded to a rest against a wall. From his position on the floor, he saw he was surrounded by control panels and windows. Another research lab, if his guess was correct. Wearily, he got to his feet to look around.

Each window looked into a separate cell. He recognized the design of it from Titan Memorial's psychiatric ward. A toilet, sink, and a cot, each streamlined and at the bare minimum to prevent patients from hurting themselves…and others…were provided. Graffiti littered the walls and floors, inked with blood and fecal matter in the mad designs projected by the Marker. All patients were present in the cells except one. The empty cell was clean, and on the control panel under the observation window, was a familiar name: Weller, Lexine M. Isaac poked a few buttons to bring up Recent History on the holographic interface. She'd been transferred to a holding cell in the same facility as Ellie and the rest.

At that point, a shiver tore up his spine and the headache that seemed to always be there gripped his brain. Someone, or something, watched him. It was nearby, very, very close. He turned from the monitors and crossed the floor to some old cryogenic holding tubes set into the wall behind him. The tubes were not see-through, but were designed much like coffins except for a glass panel to show the face. There were three:_ The Goliath's Bed; The Hushed Casket; _and _Bright Eyes_. A small shutter kept the glass protected for transport. He knew he shouldn't, but he had to know what was frozen in the tubes.

"It's just a body," he muttered to the empty room. "It's a body the scientists are studying. It's just a goddamn body."

Unconvinced and slowly, with heart racing, he reached out a hand to slide the shutter over to reveal what was kept in the nearest tube. At the last second, he lost his nerve and spun away. He couldn't. He had to. He _had to._ Swallowing, he shored up the courage, turned and looked. Dizziness swarmed his vision, but tenaciously, he held onto consciousness when he registered that the body wasn't human. Two round glowing eyes burned brightly in a lump of a head, twisted and disfigured completely so that no human features were recognizable.

Isaac stepped back when his brain spat out the memory of this type of Necromorph. "Fuck me." Mercer's experimental 'child'. His back hit the opposite wall, knees giving out, and he sank to the floor. "Shit. Fuck _me_."

As fear clawed a cold path up his chest, he could not stop his teeth from chattering. The sudden shaking overwhelmed him. He crossed his arms over his chest when he had a vision of dark metallic corridors, of the haunting roar that had echoed through the _Ishimura's_ hull; everything he'd tried to run from came at him from the hidden corners of his mind. He should have known. He should've known as soon as he saw the recovered _Ishimura_ that this hunter with regenerative powers would've been found in Cryo Storage. What had Ellie said on Titan? That she'd walked one big fucking circle? Yeah. Tell him about it.

It was the steady _bleep-bleep-bleep_ that caught his attention finally. He glanced over to the control panel and noticed a blinking red light amid the other holographic indicators. A tiny thread of self-preservation motivated him; but it was Ellie's face, her voice, her strength, that gunned him into action. Numbly, he climbed to his feet and stumbled over to see what had tripped the alarm. After a few inquiries, the panel brought up a schematic of the lab area and told him there had been a breach in the outer perimeter of the security hall.

The area was designed with a large central location divided into several smaller chambers, cushioned with open and monitored space between it and the rest of gov-sec. If one of their prisoners escaped, he or she would have a single exit. The R-Sec team had breached the single entrance and exit- -the security monitors showed a scene much like what he'd faced on Titan station. Officers with riot shields, black armor, and geared to the teeth advanced quickly, steadily through the deserted corridors.

"Remember your plan," Nicole whispered through his audiolink. "You've got to save Ellie, Greggs, and Noah. You've got to allow the Marker team time to get into position."

Fuck it. He'd have to use the hunter.

He linked to Kaassen's RIG. "What's your position?"

"We've entered the main research facility," the major replied, panting, "but we can't make a move inside. Security is crawling all over the place."

"In the Necromorph outbreaks on _Ishimura_ and Titan there was one Necromorph that couldn't be killed. You've gotta take off its limbs and hit it with stasis and then run like hell. It won't stop like the other ones. Do you understand?"

There was a long pause at the other end. "Understood. Do what you can."

They signed off and Isaac stood trying to get a grasp on the horrible thing he was about to do. Then he did it.

The tubes were on tracks that went up the wall and disappeared through some closed hatches set in the ceiling, so he couldn't be sure where the tubes emptied out. He'd relied on the Marker to summon Necromorphs to this area, and it had, but the horror-swarm had been too far away to cause an adequate distraction. Now he had no options left. Ellie had to be saved at any cost. Working quickly, Isaac activated the track for the hunter's tube. A few options popped up on the control panel, which he sorted through and after a couple seconds, the ceiling hatch opened. There was a cranking noise as the tube went through the hatch on a track.

An interface on a control panel tracked the progress of the tube. He watched as it came to a rest in an empty chamber. It seemed as though the scientists had at least planned for catastrophe, and had the chamber lined with vents, which when activated, would produce bursts of nitrogen-like clouds. They could remotely freeze the creature. As Isaac typed in the commands to allow the hunter out of its confinement, he noticed that the chamber was surrounded with patient cells. Had those sick fucks been messing with patients' heads this entire time?

Over the intercom, the computer warned him of the danger in opening up _Bright Eyes_ and the protocols that were to be taken. He ignored the computer's voice, and the progress of the casket held his attention so completely that he was startled when a holovid of Daniels popped open. In the background, the computer bleeped and blinked with warnings as the casket hissed and vented gas. It asked if he wanted to open the casket.

"What are you doing, Mr. Clarke?" Spittle flew from her mouth. "That is a very special experiment you're going to ruin! You should not be there playing with-"

A haunting howl shuddered through the sector, paired with a deafening _wham_. On the screen, the casket blinked orange and yellow where the hunter had damaged in its struggle to release itself.

Daniels' eyes had gone ruthlessly narrow. "This madness ends now." She spoke over her shoulder to someone off screen. "Run the override commands!"

So that's how she was going to be? As the computer interface locked him out, he uploaded the route that would bring him to the hunter's chamber. There, he knew he could manually open the casket, and as dangerous as that seemed, he thought it fitting to throw one more wrench into Daniels'- -and ultimately, Unitology's- -plans. He moved as she spoke to him through the holovid.

"You see, Mr. Clarke? You can't win this war. Glorious Convergence is upon us. The Great Marker will reunite us with Altman, giving way to evolution! Even your own mother has declared the time ripe for a new era." At this point, Isaac had rounded several sharp corners and had gone through a couple smaller chambers that linked the lab controls to the hunter's casket. "It's time for humans to step aside and allow the true rulers of the universe their rightful place!"

While Dainels went on a rant about Unitology and the Marker, Isaac came to the chamber where the hunter's casket had rested. On the other side of the sealed wall- -there was no accessible entrance- -he picked up the sound of a large, angry body hammering at the metal that encased it, howling in rage periodically. Just that noise spread cold sweat out along the skin under his suit. His heart rate raced when he found an access vent and unlatched it.

He'd hauled himself into the duct when his mother took Daniels' place. "Isaac, precious son," she said, words honey-coated, and he froze when she spoke in French to him. "You must be tired. Please come and see me. You can rest, and then we can talk."

Emotion had always been underneath his heart when it came to his mother, and weakened, he lowered his visor to look at her. "There's nothing to say. We've fought this battle a hundred times. A _thousand _times."

That he did not respond likewise in French did not affect her. She continued with it, anyway. "Darling, there is still a chance we can work this out. We can find a compromise. You must come and see me here." His RIG bleeped with acceptance of coordinates that she sent him. "Stop your troublesome struggles."

The hunter howled, closer than Isaac would have liked, but necessary. He started crawling. "When did you decide to abandon me? Or was that always a part of your plan?"

"How you wound me! You know how important Unitology is to me! It is a part of my life's work. It's part of my soul. Nothing is more important than the Marker and Holy Convergence."

"Yeah, more important than your own son. Your own _family_." He'd reached the exit point of the duct, opened the vent, and dropped to the floor in front of the rattling casket. He shook either from fear or anger; he didn't know. The hunter continued pounding the metal sides, aggressively seeking horrific freedom. "All that changes."

Daniels leaned over his mother's shoulder. "Get out of that chamber, Mr. Clarke! Desist at once!" She turned to the side and angrily gestured. "What's taking those soldiers so long?"

His mother's eyes were wide. "Son," she spoke English with a thick accent, "what are you doing?"

On the sides of the caskets were the various latches and command keys to pop the lid. The hunter writhed inside, scraping, clawing much like the pain behind his eye, as he undid everything keeping the lid in place except for the final locking mechanism. At the same time he worked, he heard the footfalls and clatter of soldiers as they got into position. He knew they would set a denotation to open part of the wall.

Isaac coolly gazed at her stunned face. "You want Convergence. Here it is." Then he punched the 'open' button.

Several events happened at the same time. Isaac scrambled the furthest away as possible from both threats and turned off the link system in his suit. Then he clipped on the parasite to take his RIG signal off radar. This occurred as the hunter slammed the lid of the casket into the opposite wall, raising a calamitous racket, and lumbered one limb at a time into the containment chamber. Its eyes glowed even in the stark lighting and fixated with hatred on Isaac. It was slick muscles and contorted features and terror personified. To the side, a magnificent _boom_ split apart the panels on the chamber's wall.

Smoke rolled across everything. With the detonation, the chamber went into an unnecessary lockdown, shutting off the lights to preserve energy. A spray of nitrogen followed the lockdown, but the explosion must've corrupted the pressurized system. It spurted, hissed, and died. Enough of a cloud fogged the air to reflect the laser sights for the military's pulse rifles. The hunter's attention turned aside from Isaac.

It roared as several of the soldiers entered the chamber. Their lights flashed over Isaac as he inched around to the side, out of line of fire, and then as one, they returned to the hunter, standing like a nightmare over them. Again it roared, the soldiers scuttled backwards, nervously, and there was a hair's-breadth of hesitation as none of them seemed to understand what they faced.

"OPEN FIRE!" Isaac shouted.

That galvanized them into action. Pulse rounds sprayed into the hunter's torso which did nothing as it ponderously stalked closer to them. All the soldiers had their attention occupied by the Necromorph, allowing Isaac to slip unnoticed along the chamber's wall, keeping an eye on the hunter and another on the bursts of pulse rounds. Timing was everything. His heart pounded; his mind hummed in what he could only understand was an accelerated state of consciousness as he waited for the hunter to slash through the first line of soldiers.

As soon as three or four were cut down in gory pieces and a liberal fountain of blood, clearing the way, he charged at an angle through the gash in the wall. He passed behind the hunter as it followed the retreating soldiers, and sprinted down the empty hallway, not slowing even as the sound of terrorized soldiers and the constant sound of firing pulse rifles faded.

In the hunter's chaotic wake, he hadn't noticed that a sector-wide emergency had kicked in. The Necromorphs from the rest of the station must've breached the EarthGov facility. Alarms blared, blinking lights, and more and more doors locked down, but he was on the crest of it, the seconds just before it completed all its procedures. He managed to avoid getting stuck in a locked room or corridor. As he continued on the route mapped by his waypoint, Isaac avoided as much as possible the soldiers running in every direction. He knew he had precious few minutes left before the Necromorphs tore through the sector, entirely killing all life. That time also included what he had before shuttles and escape pods were deployed as panicked scientists fled the sector.

As he penetrated deeper into EarthGov's research facility, the Marker's influence became unbearable. Even in empty halls, he saw ghosts, images etched in spaces in front of him, and heard the Marker's maniacal whispers. The pain…it consumed him, worse than the needle drilling into his eyeball and consequently his brain matter, worse than discovering Nicole had committed suicide to die on her own terms, worse even than the combined three years of mind games and torture to extract the Marker's blueprints. His legs grew more leaden; he became heavier and wearier and he sank to the floor to catch his breath. He felt suffocated and paralyzed. For help, he touched the St. Christopher's medallion under the suit.

Immediately, the busyness in his mind ceased and most of the pain dried up. A familiar presence formed at his side.

"Don't let it get to you," Nicole said. He felt her hand slip into his. "The Marker's afraid. It's trying to use you. Don't let it."

"What do I do? I can't…I can't move."

"You're almost there. Get up. You must continue to the bitter end," she said, and whether or not she was a figment of his imagination, she hauled his ass off the floor and shoved him in the correct direction. "You are the only one who can."

He caught his footing, and the shove had gotten him in motion to finish the last leg to the holding cells containing his people. No guards patrolled the corridors or waited in security stations. Rather, the entire block seemed deserted. Surprised at the stroke of luck this far in the game, Isaac opened the cell labeled 'LANGFORD, E.' The door flew open after a few commands at the security station, and he rushed into her cell.

"Ellie? Ellie, I'm here for-"

It was empty. He walked the short distance around the small cell to check each corner. Then he stood in silent shock for a moment, trying to tell himself that she was on the floor behind the cot or that she blended into the grey, cold wall and he had missed seeing her. But the smooth walls and sparse furniture mocked him, and he wasn't sure what to think. Hastily, he checked the other cells. Greggs and Noah were also missing. Dammit. Could it be possible that they escaped? If they had, wouldn't they have contacted him somehow? What if EarthGov had already executed them? What if…he was too late?

"_Hello_? Hello?" A faint voice filtered through the steel to him. "Is someone there? Anybody?"

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**A/N:** Thanks, as usual, for your support with the story. Writing it is very worthwhile when so many people derive enjoyment from it. Much more action & mayhem is yet to come. The next chapter will be posted Feb. 2nd. See you then!


	24. Some People You Just Can't Reason With

**A/N:** Welcome back, dear readers and lurkers. After your long week, I hope you enjoy this new chapter of "Reconciliation".

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**Chapter Twenty-four: Some People You Just Can't Reason With**

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Next to Noah's cell was a cell labeled 'WELLER, L.' He found the woman on the minimal cot, her knees to her chin, her dark hair running in a long ponytail down her back. She looked up, frightened, when he came through.

"Gabe?" she whispered. Tears had streaked her face. "Is that you?"

"No," Isaac said. He decided to not immediately reveal who he was. "Do you know what happened to the others?"

She shook her head. "Some soldiers came and took them away a few minutes ago. I think to Director Daniels. It's an outbreak, isn't it?" she asked. Morosely, she lowered her chin. "I can tell. I can hear it talking in the back of my mind."

He nodded. "Yes. I know. If you come with me, we can get out of here."

Her glassy eyes took him in and she didn't say anything for such a long time that he thought she'd ignored him. Then finally, she said, "On Titan, there were these…men…who tried to take me away. My husband died trying to save me. It's because I'm pregnant." She sniffed and shrugged, and when she leaned back, he saw a gentle roundness to her belly. "If we get off this station, we'll be picked up by more EarthGov scientists. There isn't anywhere safe to run."

Isaac licked his lips. She sounded as if she'd been through the same hell, and so at that moment, he chose to trust her. "There is a ship for people like us, who're running away from Unitologists and EarthGov. Those other people with me, they're from that ship." He went over to her and clasped her shoulders. "You'll be safe there. You have to try. It's what your husband would want."

"Who are you?" she asked, a light coming alive in her eyes. "Who are you?"

The moment of truth. He disengaged his visor. "Isaac Clarke."

She stared at him long enough that he thought she'd scream and try to escape. She did neither. Instead, she laughed with relief. "It's just you. Gabe was always saying how you had the balls the size of Jupiter to do what you did. We always secretly believed you weren't a terrorist."

"So…you'll come with me?"

Lexine looked at him, her expression sorrowful and tired, but determination hardened across her features. "Yes. Yes, absolutely," she said, getting off the cot, "you're right. First, we should find your friends. I'll go with you."

"Daniels has probably taken them hostage. We find her, we find them."

"Right," she agreed. "But where would she be?"

Isaac gazed off. "More than likely she'll be closest to the Marker."

"Oh." It sounded as if she'd lost her breath. "I see."

He knew how she felt.

The very first item of business was to find and upgrade a suit for Lexine. He wasn't stupid enough to think that he'd be able to keep an eye on her every waking second, and shit was clearly about to get real. He felt it was worth the five to ten minutes to secure Lexine's survival as best he could. Unfortunately, the gear had been picked over in open lockers in the battle-ready room down a few corridors from the cells. But in a workshop area, he hooked up Lexine's RIG with telekinesis and stasis modules from spare parts. He also found an extra pistol, which after some urging, he showed her how to load a clip and snap off and on the safety.

"I've been through an outbreak before," she reminded him, annoyed, "and I never needed a weapon."

Isaac put a hand on her arm. "Around me, defenseless people tend to die. It's best if you have _some _type of weapon. Please, humor me."

With reluctance, Lexine learned to load and cock the pistol and after she'd mastered those skills to Isaac's satisfaction, she holstered it with a sigh. "And is it necessary for me to be wearing this…extra gear?" She flexed her arm. "It's sort of…uncomfortable."

"Yes, it's necessary," he replied. His patience was wearing a bit thin. Ellie was never this whiny. "You need the stasis and kinesis."

He watched as she experimentally held out her palm, jerking a green bin from its spot on the wall to right in front of her with the TK. The hum and light of it seemed to fascinate her. Had she never experienced telekinesis before? A second later, she expelled the bin to smash it into pieces on the far side of the room. Her jaw had dropped and her eyes were wide with amazement as though she couldn't believe she'd done that.

"Here, try to catch this recycle bin when I throw it," he said, moving several meters away from her. "Ready?"

She nodded, prepared her hand, and when he tossed up the bin, she snagged it with kinesis. Giggling, she grabbed it with her other hand to set aside. "That's pretty cool."

"Hm-hm," he said, "it'll save your life. I know you probably don't think you're ready, but we need to move. The sooner we find Daniels, the sooner we can get you out of here."

"Do you even know where we're going?" His long pause indicated his answer. She continued, "We're at a security checkpoint, so let's use the computer to route a map to where Director Daniels would be. It's better than wandering around, lost."

She had a point. "Good idea."

He turned to the glowing green holo-interface, which had continued to update a sector-wide map of various hotspots, and grimaced as screenshot after screenshot of macabre horror opened from facility video feed. Several security units had been annihilated already. The comms had been muted earlier; no doubt the soldiers were in a state of panic over the audiolinks.

Soon, he located the coordinates of a stationary team- -the individual RIG signals steady red dots on the vidscreen- -at an area that came up marked 'CONFIDENTIAL: CLEARANCE NECESSARY'. "Okay," he pointed when Lexine leaned over his shoulder, "this must be where they're keeping the Marker. I'll upload the coordinates to our waypoints, so if we get separated, we know where each of us is heading."

"Do you have any sort of plan for when we get there?"

"Heh," he tapped the necessary keys on the interface, "one thing at a time."

Lexine nodded. But before he opened the door to exit the room, she yanked him back by the crook of his elbow. "Isaac…I…" She trailed off. Her anxiety was clear.

He understood her. "I know." Reassuringly, he patted her hand. "Let's go. Convergence waits for no one."

His joke caused her to frown. Lexine didn't have the humor Ellie did. Noted. He put up his visor, and they exited the security station, crossing into the deserted halls. An emergency quarantine had been declared, so lights continued to whirl orange and red and many of the doors were locked. The waypoint, thankfully, led them on a couple alternative routes around blocked areas. Several times he tried to contact Daniels over RIGlink to pinpoint her position, but the signal was too weak or was blocked. He couldn't raise anyone on the Marker team, either, so he was ignorant of their movements.

He and Lexine had jogged down several different corridors; in all, it had been a few minutes since they'd set out from the cell block, when a moonquake shuddered through the sector. It hit with such magnitude that it threw he and Lexine to the shivering floor. On the wall beside them, the holographic displays were jolted from their bolts, crashing to the floor, sparks scattering out. The familiar whine of metal greeted them as it was put under enormous strain. That rattling was much louder and vigorous than he thought possible. A grate popped from its hold in the ceiling, clattering to the floor inches in front of them.

Lexine screamed.

In the nick of time, Isaac lashed out an arm and protected her head from another heavy vent grate that smashed downwards on top of them. Abrupt, sharp pain radiated up from his forearm. Under the circumstances, he couldn't keep track of it. More and more bright sparks showered out from electronics. And then everything went silent. And dark. The lights had gone completely out. Darkness was absolute, save for what could be lit with their flashlights and his visor.

"Lexine…?"

"Yeah, Isaac, I'm okay," she wiggled under his arm but the grating had pinned them. "Can you…get this thing off me?"

He thought he could lever the grate with his arm. "Give me a second." As soon as he shifted his arm, pain that had been dormant intensified. He gasped. "_Dammit._ I think…my arm's broken."

"What?" She moved, and he felt her roll a bit to her side. "Here, I can help. We'll push together on three."

She counted to three. Gritting his teeth, Isaac resigned himself to the sickening pain. Nothing had dropped over the grate, so they were able to work it off and fling it to the side. The pain had stolen his breath, so he lay, panting, on his side and waited for the pain to ebb. It did, but remained a dull throb between his elbow and wrist, where he prodded experimentally. At least it was not a compound fracture. His suit, thank God, pumped some analgesic into him to numb the pain and inflated that small section of the suit with air to decrease the swelling.

"Will you be all right?" Lexine asked. "Is it bad?"

"I'll live." He'd have to, at any rate.

She helped him stand and together, they maneuvered out of their semi-buried state. They surveyed their new, cluttered surroundings, flashlights flickering along the bare and ruined walls, and waited for the lights to go back on. They didn't. Nothing was lit, not even the holographs on the doors or the emergency lighting system. His best guess: it had been knocked out by the vicious shaking.

"This can't be good," Lexine breathed.

She'd scarcely had spoken when a chorus of inhuman roars echoed to them from the dark halls. Bursts of rifle fire, terrible screams (definitely human), and the trample of feet intermingled with the noise. After a few more seconds, everything faded to silence.

"Necromorphs. The closer we get to the Marker, the harder it is for us to kill them," he said. Cautiously, he stepped over a pile of electronic detritus and checked the waypoint. It slipped along the floor in the direction of the noise. "Looks like forward is our only option."

He heard Lexine follow. "Shouldn't we…avoid them?"

"I'd love to, but somehow, I think that we'll run into them no matter where we go."

His words became prophetic. Down the deep, dark hall they trod. Isaac's hair was up, prickling along his neck, and the headache pushed against his temple behind his eye. Whispers rasped around him where he couldn't see, but he kept his light and pace steady. A great quietness had inflated in the blackness, such that he felt to his bones that he was trespassing where he didn't belong. Nerves skittered in his stomach. Flicking his flashlight about would serve to freak out Lexine; he needed to stay as calm as possible to keep _her _calm.

Isaac came to an open T-intersection, where some R-Sec had met their violent demise. Beside him, Lexine gasped. There wasn't anything to do but go on through. When he reached out to take her by the wrist, she allowed it. Fresh blood dripped from the ceiling, a few body parts lay in pools of chunky goo, and as he stepped around a large smear of gore, his foot knocked a head rolling. The thudding of it seemed overly loud in the thick dark and silence.

Suddenly, she stopped short. "Oh, _God,_ do you hear anything?"

"What?" He tilted his head and listened, but not even the hum of the environmental regulators interrupted the stillness. He put down his visor and listened, hard. Then it hit him. "_Fuck._ Life support's shut down."

"How is that even possible?"

"Nevermind that. It won't be long until the air vents off…then we're really screwed." He gestured in the proper direction. "We gotta-"

His comment was cut short when a forlorn roar resonated through the empty corridors. It froze him in place, singed a white shock of pain from his eye to the depths of his brain. He grunted and flinched under the razor edge of it.

"Isaac…wh-what was that? I've…never heard anything like it before," Lexine whispered.

He could not answer her right away since fear had dried up his reason. The hunter. His immediate inclination was to run as far and as fast as he could, directionless, mindless. But he had Ellie to think about, lost to him somewhere in the sector, and Lexine, who was with him. He dragged in a breath and waited for another howl. It came from behind them, but that was meaningless because it could crash through vents at any speed it wanted and come out in front.

"Lexine," his voice was reedy even to him, "if I tell you to run, you do it, no questions asked. You run and you don't look back, is that clear?"

"I don't-"

He turned to her. "Is that _clear_?"

"Yes, it's clear." She bowed her head and he hated that he'd expected a fight from her.

"Good." He engaged his visor, the familiar sound of the various interlocking tiles and electronics strangely comforting, and pulled Lexine along behind him. "Keep quiet and stay back."

That the hunter stalked them was implicitly understood. It was after Isaac and given the chance, it would track him to the ends of the universe. On the inside, Isaac's brain seemed attuned to the Marker's signal, its commands as it organized its deformed, psychopathic undead horde into a formation of offense and defense. The fluid signal was like a ringing at the back of his head, an awareness that came alive in this desperate situation. Vaguely he wondered if he could manipulate the connection.

In the dark of the sector, the abrupt opening of a hololink nearly gave him a coronary. It was Trey, visor up, finger pressed to an ear. His head bobbed as he spoke, but the audio had fucked up, so Isaac heard nothing. The feed was weak as well, so the hololink was static more often than not. Behind Trey was a nondescript wall, and the last image left with Isaac was Trey bringing up what looked like a line gun to shoot it off-screen. Shit. The Marker team looked in trouble.

"Who was that?" asked Lexine. "Someone you know?"

"Yes. And I think they're in some trouble."

"We're all in trouble."

That haunted baying rolled over them, terrifyingly close, and they realized they'd come to a halt in the middle of the hall. The hunter hadn't yet caught them up, but it was a matter of time before it did, and Isaac thought it best that there were more than two targets for it to go after. However quickly they opened the doors and pounded up emergency staircases or circumvented debris-blocked halls, their urgency continued to press at their backs, until Lexine quit running. Isaac turned back to see her leaned over with her hands on her knees, her long ponytail draping over her shoulder.

"We don't have time for a break," he urged her, but she slapped away his hand. "C'mon."

"Isaac…I can't…keep up!"

"We're almost there." Telling the lie was the least of his worries. "Just a little further. You can make it."

But the pause was enough. Isaac sensed danger- -waves of it thrashing around them- -and Lexine cried out, collapsing to the floor, and sobbed for air. He knelt at her side, at a loss, but the slow, unhurried thump of feet across metal flooring jerked up his attention. Two yellow, glowing pinpricks of light hovered at the other end of the dark hall. As it roared in triumph, ice pumped through Isaac's veins. A living nightmare come to haunt him. He grabbed Lexine's arm, hauling her off the floor, and dragged her behind him in a dead sprint. They flew through the deserted corridors, their feet slamming in a clatter on the floor.

Eventually, the waypoint landed them in front of a large circular door, which was labeled 'Main Marker Research Laboratory'. Gasping for air, they halted in front of it. A stitch had wedged into Isaac's side, prodding and painful as he examined the door. The door itself had power, the 'locked' hologram center and clear, and the sign above bright white in the dark. They'd come to the final barrier into the Marker's immediate domain. Their sprint had given them some time, not enough, and the hunter would inevitably pick up the slack if they lingered.

But no matter how hard he tugged or pushed, no matter how uselessly he punched that locking mechanism, the door would not budge. He searched around for a terminal, but there wasn't one he could get into for this door. The area around the door was wide-open, with very little cover for whatever decided to drop in on them, which could be the hunter or a variety of its siblings. It was a junction, with four other doors leading outwards into other parts of the sector, but these were powerless. They were trapped.

"We have to find another way in," he said. Sweat trickled into his eyes, stinging, but he dared not lower his visor. "Do you see any vents or hatches?"

Lexine didn't answer and when he glanced over, he discovered she'd fallen into a heap on the floor. She must've fainted. He checked her health meter, which was aqua with a tinge of yellow and two bars lower than full, so she wasn't dying. But her face was grey under slick wisps of hair. Gently he patted her cheek to get her to stir. After a couple seconds, her eyelids fluttered.

"Gabe? Darling?" she muttered.

He helped her sit up. "No. I'm not your husband. Do you know where you-"

A loud _cha-THUNK_ interrupted him. Startled, he snapped up his plasma cutter to the opened door, but immediately lowered it again. The barrels of half a dozen plasma rifles peeking from behind riot shields saw to that. Soldiers had taken up a straight line across the door. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and he and they knew it.

"Isaac Clarke," said one of the R-Sec, "put your hands up and your visor down. Step away from the civilian. Do not resist or we will open fire."

To his surprise, they did not shoot him when he complied. They cuffed him, none too gently, but eased up when he gasped in pain from the mishandling his broken arm received. He was unceremoniously yanked to standing. Again, he was surprised when from behind the armored shoulders he saw Greggs.

The doctor looked exhausted, vacant, but when Isaac made eye contact, he saw that Greggs recognized him and nodded. A dark bruise swelled over part of Greggs' eye, and a congealed cut marred the bridge of his nose. Then the moment ended as the R-Sec guided Isaac through a gauntlet of heavily armed soldiers, as though a whole unit had been deployed. He couldn't help tossing a glance over his shoulder; Greggs knelt at Lexine's side, a penlight in hand.

"Keep your eyes forward," said one R-Sec from his right. A cuff on the back of the head reinforced the command.

Isaac kept his eyes forward, but he had to squint in the serious lighting of the halls. His ears picked up the white noise of the air regulators, the buzz and whine of electronics, and even though the R-Sec was technically his enemy, he was grateful for the presence of other living people. When they opened another inner door, entering into a different hall, he saw a heap of Necromorph carcasses surrounded by a ridiculous amount of blackened pockmarks. One soldier had a flamethrower and used a copious amount of napalm to ignite the remains, the heat washing over Isaac's face as they passed.

After a few more doors, the R-Sec crowded onto a large lift, which he noticed with relief, had no blood stains, and up they went. He gazed upwards, counting the lights ringing around the shaft, and the part of his brain linked inexplicably to the Marker let him know he was very, very close to the artifact. It knew that he was close and he felt it begin to build up power for another attack.

"It'll use the hunter," Nicole said to him. She'd manifested beside an R-Sec officer, standing relaxed and calm in her medical uniform. "It'll find its way in soon. You'll be able to use the confusion to your advantage. Get everyone out then return to destroy the Marker."

"What about the moon?" he asked, without thinking.

"_Shut up_," snarled an R-Sec. In annoyance, the R-Sec whipped the butt of his rifle into Isaac's shoulder.

The hit was enough to stagger him, but he recovered, having nowhere to stumble. He ignored the pain as Nicole caressed his face. Her touch had been forgotten, and it drew up a fountain spring of lost memories. She'd been so wonderful to him. "Worry about killing the Marker first. Rhea may yet be saved from destruction if you're fast enough."

The lift lurched to a stop at the top of the shaft and he was hustled into a command center of sorts, with manned stations everywhere and wide, panoramic observation windows looking out over the Grey Marker. The command center was high-up, so just the twin horns of the Marker were visible. His stomach dropped from a great height. There it was. All the cuneiform was lit up and with the skin aglow, it looked completely built of silver.

Off to the side of the windows, kneeling with pistols to the backs of their heads, were Ellie and Noah. They both had watched for his entrance. Noah's face relaxed with relief, but Ellie remained tight-lipped and frightened. Octavia and Director Daniels stood in front of the observation windows and a fistful of other people continued to hunch over control panels and interfaces. Tense excitement thrummed the air as scientists and tech specialists alike paid close attention to the Marker's read-outs.

Upon his arrival, however, much of the beehive activity ceased. Faces and eyes of amazement and horror turned on him. Once again, he felt under the microscope. Everything went on suspension as a hush blanketed the room, and then the whispers started. The R-Sec officers marched him across the large area to where Octavia and Daniels stood, watching with cold eyes. He noticed that there was a step up onto a level that put both women head and shoulders above everyone else.

"Captain," Daniels purred as her eyes shifted to one of the soldiers, "your success will be well rewarded. Leave two of your men with Mr. Clarke and ensure the perimeter remains secure. Eliminate any and all threats with extreme prejudice. Is that understood, Captain?"

"Yes, ma'am," replied the captain. "Juarez and Polinsky, keep Clarke under arrest. The rest of you, on me. Stay frosty."

The R-Sec squadron turned about-face and moved as a deadly machine to the exit, leaving Isaac under Daniels' hateful glare. Her eyes raked him from head to toe. Octavia stood with her arms folded and he recognized the furrowed brow as one of scathing disappointment in him. That was nothing new. She'd tried so hard to shoehorn him into Religious Studies with an emphasis on…you guessed it, Unitology. Her inflexibility ended up driving him away from what she wanted for him; perhaps if she'd given his choices more respect, he'd have been more inclined to listen to her plans.

"So here we are, Mr. Clarke," said Daniels after her assessment of him. "Your presence is a bit…underwhelming, as it were. I can't see how Tiedemann failed to bring you to heel."

"Millicent, we should move to somewhere private for this discussion," Octavia said. "I doubt-"

"You don't have to worry about my dignity, _Octavia,_" interrupted Isaac. She winced when he refused to call her his mother. "I haven't sold my soul to a sentient, murderous piece of alien mineral."

Daniels wheezed in laughter. "You grossly underestimate our control over it. We've learned from the mistakes made on the _Ishimura_ and Titan. A Convergence event will give us all the answers we seek."

"Do you even know what happens during a Convergence event?"

"We will soon find out. The power generated by the Marker…it's incredible."

He clenched his jaw with his impatience. "How can you be sure that Convergence isn't the Marker's way of killing anyone left alive?"

"You are not familiar with Altman's literature, then?" Daniels eyeballed Octavia, who scowled.

She shook her head. "Isaac is extremely familiar with Altman's work. Bullheaded as my son can be, he knows what is written of Convergence. Isaac," she stepped off the platform and laid her hands on his shoulders, imploring him in French, "this is important. You must renounce your faithlessness and turn back to the true path. You will not be accepted for Convergence if you do not!"

Unitology believed Convergence was the ascendance into a new, evolved body, where unity was upheld under the godlike presence of the Marker. So blinded were the Unitologists with their belief that the Marker would provide them a safe and secure life that they refused the evidence right at their noses. The Marker was manipulative and evil; even now, he could feel its will, its invasiveness as it drove perfectly sane people to utter madness.

"No." He said it firmly, clearly, loud enough so everyone in the vicinity could hear him. "Convergence is a lie. What the Marker is doing is killing. It may even be committing genocide. Everything that's happened since discovering the Marker's technology has led to nothing but death. I've been through it…three times, now. There is nothing wholesome about the Marker. There is nothing to be gained from letting it live."

From behind him, he heard the door open. The Marker's frequency charged an electric chill down his spine as it became very active, the whispers intensifying. Flashes of cuneiform pulsed on the walls- -he couldn't be sure if it was in his head or really happening. Daniels and Octavia gazed out to the new arrivals, and when Daniels saw who it was, Isaac watched as a terrible idea dawned over her face. He hadn't felt nervous or afraid, but the look on Daniels' face portended to something horrible and that…that was what flopped a cold fish into his stomach.

"Ah," Daniels said, considerably brighter than before, "your friend, Dr. Greggs. And I see Mrs. Weller with him. Very good. Please bring them here, Captain!" Then she gestured for the R-Sec guarding Noah and Ellie. "Those two as well."

The officers complied. Much rustling and shuffling occurred as the R-Sec escorted everyone in custody toward the platform. Lexine continued to look pasty; Greggs, apprehensive. When they were gathered, Daniels smiled at Isaac with a malevolent baring of her teeth. "Captain, if I could have your sidearm, please."

The captain hesitated visibly. "Ma'am?"

"Give me," she said, articulating each word, "your sidearm."

The captain snapped open the holster protecting the regulation security pistol and handed it over. "Safety's on, ma'am," he told her.

When she glared at him, eyes burning, he shifted and looked chastised. Then she toggled off the safety. "I wonder," she said, pointing the gun at Isaac, "if you could use some motivation in understanding our cause. You have blocked us at every turn. Destroyed utterly two priceless Markers. Have questioned our faith, _killed _our people." She spoke to the R-Sec. "Line up the prisoners along here. Keep Mr. Clarke right where he is."

Octavia stood to the side, confusion across her features. "Millicent…what exactly are you doing?"

Daniels ignored her.

A knot tightened in his throat as he tried to figure out what her game was and he couldn't understand. She had gestured to a near wall and once the prisoners were moved, they were forced to their knees. Greggs was immediately to Daniels' side, beside him Noah and Lexine and Ellie last. Isaac could feel his heart beating through his back with anxiety; what was she planning? His eyes flicked around, trying to search a way out of this, his brain flirting with all sorts of outrageous ideas, but none would result in Ellie's survival. Or, for that matter, his.

"Make sure you keep a tight hold on him," Daniels warned the officers flanking Isaac. Their hands gripped his arms harder, bands of steel crushing his muscles. She gave him one last satisfied smirk before leveling the gun at Greggs' head. "Just so you know how serious I am."

Then she squeezed the trigger.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay. I know, I know. ANOTHER cliffhanger you'll hate me for. Sorry 'bout that. And I'm taking the week off for the release of Dead Space 3. I've been anticipating this videogame _way_ too much. Next chapter will be published Feb. 16th. See you then! =)


	25. Eye of the Beholder

**A/N:** Welcome back, everyone! Thank you for being patient with my break. I did play through DS 3, and I'll try my best to avoid spoilers. Enjoy this next (longish) installment of "Reconciliation".

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-five: Eye of the Beholder**

* * *

Bright red blood exploded forcibly from Greggs' temple. His expression was confused as his body crumpled and hit the floor with a meaty thud. The pistol shot crackled to the corners of the area. No one at first reacted, too stunned that Daniels had murdered the doctor in cold blood, but a keening wail knifed down through the silence. It was Noah, who burst into tears equally in fear and grief.

A growing pool of blood spread from under Greggs' prone corpse. The thick liquid began pouring over the step to the floor at Isaac's feet. Daniels said, "Oh, damn. I'll have to get someone to clean this up." She handed the R-Sec captain back his sidearm and turned a smug smile to Isaac. "Now I hope that you'll behave. It would be such a shame see the others harmed, wouldn't it, Mr. Clarke? And you'll soon see that Convergence is everything that it is supposed to be."

He'd lost attachment to the situation. He'd gone far inside himself, a response he'd used to cope with Nicole's death, and shared a glance with Ellie. Her mismatched eyes were glassy; her beautiful golden complexion had been robbed of its color. At the glance, she partially opened her mouth as if to say something, but she swallowed back her words, choosing to nod, instead. She agreed that he needed to draw attention away from them and bring it to him. He was to blame, not the others.

"You'd better keep that gun," he told the old woman. His heart thudded behind his ribs. "You're gonna need it."

"And you're in a position to threaten me? I hardly think so, Mr. Clarke." She gave a careless cackle. "My ducks are in a row and there's not a damn thing you can do about it."

"Like mother, like daughter. Kendra had the same arrogance." He lowered his tone. The atmosphere rippled with tension. "She hadn't the sense to stop playing with things that were out of her control. She died on that godforsaken planet. Crushed and smeared across the ground, screaming in terror."

"Stop there, Mr. Clarke."

He wouldn't because the image of it had been burned into his memory. "She died trying to drag up the Red Marker from where it belonged. And the religion you hold so dear-"

"_Enough_, Isaac!"

"-sent her there. The Hive Mind didn't choose-"

"That's enough! Captain, silence this traitor at once!" She had lost control, her head bobbing, lips working and her face scarlet. "He is a terrorist! He is not to be listened to! Silence him!"

He spoke over her hysteria. "-her. It killed her because that's what it did. That's the purpose of the Marker. Kendra was all part of the experiment. She's not transcended. She's not immortal. She's not even evolved. She's nothing and nowhere. Almost like she never even existed…" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the captain swing his pistol downwards.

Needling pain ballooned into his head, searing a sinister orange veil over his vision, and the overwhelming pungency of rotting flesh slapped him in the face. The orange receded. He stood somewhere rocky, shadowy, and cold, so, so cold. And it was familiar. He knew this place and the murmur of thousands of voices carried on hoarse wind. Necromorphs grew from the floor in some jolted mimicry of a puppeteer's marionettes, blades and legs jerking, shuddering, ripping up through corruption in agonizing rebirth, but Isaac stared past them to the pagan artifact dominating the horizon that seemed at the same time close and distant. To his side, he saw Nicole, felt her hand slip into his.

"I told you," the Grey Marker gloated in that horrid whisper-scream. "I told you people around you die. Give in, Isaac. Make us whole!"

Like his previous encounters with Markers, the power of it surged through him, the promise of control, of punishment of those who had wronged him. The Marker's power caressed the wounds of his soul, promised relief if he would succumb to the Marker's will. Even as the pain lessened to nothing, even as raw energy peaked inside him, even as he knew it to be a hollow promise, he wanted to let go, he wanted to relinquish control.

Nicole's hand squeezed his. "You won't find peace," she told him. "The Marker will never allow you to rest. Don't go."

"Isaac, she's lying. You can give yourself to me. I will give you what you seek. You can be with Nicole. You owe her that. Give in. Give in." The Necromorphs that had remained completely unmoving rustled in a wave. He hadn't seen how many of them there were. So many. And he was tired of fighting. "Let go so that we may be made whole."

The offer was too good. He broke his gaze from the Marker's glowing cuneiform that danced and twinkled and enthralled to seek Nicole beside him. But when it was no longer Nicole, but Ellie, his breath caught in his lungs and he forgot about the Marker's offer. He'd held back the depth of his love for her because it hurt too much- -the self-torture and torment because he shouldn't love someone who wasn't Nicole, but he couldn't stop himself - -and seeing Ellie in this cold, deathly place shattered the resistance he'd put up to distance himself. His very soul burned until the frigid ice of the Marker's presence dissipated, until he was consumed with wanting Ellie free not from the threat of the Grey Marker, but free from the threat of _any _Marker.

"No."

His response enraged the Marker. The silken power that had before caressed and gently stroked became claws raking his nerves, gouging into him in a million different places, and the Marker forced itself so far into his brain he thought he would split in two. It was enough to crumple him, set him writhing and screaming on the ground without dignity or end to it. Countless different images flashed in succession so short and rapid he could barely comprehend that what he saw weren't his own memories. People and places he'd never seen before…and when the pain grew as if a living, bulbous creature in his head, pulsating with sick rot, one scene formed crystal clear and stuck there.

A black Marker surrounded completely with white in a crevasse of dark rock. Soft snowflakes sprinkled down around it. He got the impression it was quiet where it was kept. Then almost as if it caught him peeking, it shrieked, exploded with power enough to pound him abruptly conscious. After the torment from the Grey Marker, consciousness was infinitely preferable.

He was aware he'd fallen on his side and that his arms were uncomfortably manacled at his lower back, pressed against a wall, and that several minutes must've passed. His right eye throbbed, which wasn't very painful, but he realized he did not have vision in that eye. And then the noise burst into his attention. He recognized the sound of chaos when he heard it. High-pitched, rapid speech. Feet and legs rushing around. Faint screams and the fearsome Necromorphic horde's roar. Daniels' voice came to him- -she fired off orders in a tone that seemed rigid and furious.

"Ellie?" Her name cracked on his lips. His throat and mouth were dry and sour-tasting. "Ellie, are you there?" He paused, thinking maybe she wasn't near him, before trying again. "Ellie, answer me."

"I'm here," she said. "Behind you."

"What's happening?" She didn't answer immediately, so he prompted her. "Ellie? What's happening?"

"Disaster."

With as little movement as possible, Isaac attempted to sit up. He failed. His muscles and bones were under the impression he'd been crushed a few times in a garbage compressor. Pins and needles pricked the arm he'd rested on, but after a slow procedure of shuffling, stopping, pushing, stopping, he managed to get himself upright, but regretted it when his head spun in nauseous swoops and tilts. Even when he closed his eye, he felt the dizziness in the darkness behind his eyelids.

"You look like shit," Ellie told him dryly. "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah." He sighed. "Why am I still alive?"

"You _were _almost executed, but then a sector went into lockdown. Daniels told the soldiers to leave you for later."

"I take it the Necromorphs have overwhelmed R-Sec?"

"Not yet, but getting close. The majority of them were called to help in different areas."

"Lexine and Noah?"

"They're on the other side of me. Both are upset from Greggs' death."

"Are you?" He licked his lips when a long silence answered him. "Ellie?"

"I…I'm managing. I'm pissed and sorry he was killed needlessly."

Their silence was mutual. Yeah. That was what he felt, too, but he was more experienced with handling the death of people he knew. He'd keep a close watch on her to make sure she was okay. That was _if_ they could escape. Isaac couldn't help calculating their odds for survival or even their odds for getting out of the jam they were in without someone else getting shot. "Is everyone cuffed?"

"Yes." Then, in a whisper, "Shit, here comes your mother."

He listened to a quiet exchange between Octavia and the lone R-Sec officer left behind to guard the prisoners. Only when he heard her approach did he open his functional eye. He didn't know what was wrong with his right eye; it had been acting funny ever since his arrival to gov-sec. It was probably the Marker meddling with his brain, but he couldn't be sure.

Octavia knelt in front of him, her knees popping, and he noticed for the first time the streaks of iron grey in her dark hair, the web of lines from the sides of her eyes. She seemed much older than she had been over the hololink. In her hands she had a red and white medical pack.

"Your face is bleeding, son," she said, zipping open the pack. "There should be something for you in here."

He watched her silently, her slim fingers picking out the medical wipes and opening one with precise, efficient movements. She took it and with a tender-roughness mothers seemed to always possess, wiped the grime and blood from his face. The wipe was cool, stinging, and smelt faintly of rubbing alcohol. There were faint memories associated with her action, ones that Isaac grasped at but in the end, decided to let go because there was no point in holding onto the past. There was no point in hurting himself over and over with those memories. When she applied pressure to his right eye, he ducked his head from the sizzle of pain.

"That's enough. You can stop," he told her, breaking the cold silence between them. "I'm fine."

She clucked her tongue. "You're as stubborn as your father was. Your eye is crusted over and disgusting. It needs disinfecting."

"You've never told me what happened to him," he said and shifted away when she went to continue wiping off his face. "Do you even know?"

Her mouth pursed; she dropped her arm. "He disappeared, so, no, I don't know."

"You're lying to me." He leaned his head back on the wall, anxious and weary from it. The dizziness had gone. "You always lie to me."

Octavia set aside the medical pack and smoothed out her trousers. "It's better if you don't know, but I'll tell you if you come with me for Convergence. I don't want to go without you."

"What'll be the point if he's dead?" Ellie interjected. Octavia's darkly stroked eyebrows jumped in surprise. "You obviously have no concept of these creatures. Of what they're capable of."

Octavia narrowed her eyes at Ellie, but chose to address Isaac in French. "Please, darling, join me for Convergence. You'll have the answers you seek then. You'll be able to put Nicole to rest. Isn't that what you want?"

Aggravation kept him silent. No doubt she'd seen references to Nicole on his psych profile from his time on Titan- -which Daniels could've had. What made her think slinging around Nicole's name would induce him into turning to Convergence for salvation? "I don't believe in Convergence. I'm not going with you."

Their conversation stopped when splats of pulse rifle tore through the panicked murmuring, right outside the doors. A _whump_ of an explosion vibrated the floor and walls, rattling the windows. Daniels, on the platform, gripped the railing as a hololink of an R-Sec officer opened on her RIG. Isaac watched over Octavia's shoulder.

Mired with the sound of pandemonium, the R-Sec's voice carried out to them. "_We've got men down! Men down! Shit! We can't…we can't hold them off!"_ He turned, his lit visor flashing sideways, and unloaded his rifle off-screen as one man shrieked in horror. Roars overwhelmed the screaming. Static showered across the screen, but the audio was clear. "_Oh, God. No! NO!_"

Then the door opened- -startling the scientists into looking up, frozen like statues- - and five R-Sec spilled into the area. A concussive blast rushed dust into the open door, causing the soldiers to stumble over each other, clattering gear and weapons to the floor. Three of them whipped around to unload suppressive fire into the hallway with their sidearms. Roars and shrieks of Necromorphs rolled over the living in terrifying reality.

"LOCK THE DOOR! LOCK THE GODDAMN DOOR!" yelled one soldier, who had another slung over his shoulder. He, too, unloaded his rifle in the hall behind him. "HURRY!"

One scientist leapt into action. The large door hissed shut and the holograph switched over to an orange LOCKED. White jumpsuits swarmed the officers as scientists broke from their paralysis and rushed to give medical aid as best they knew how. Murmurs and pants and sobs of the R-Sec officers were punctuated with calls for med-packs and help.

"What is going on out there?" Daniels said, suddenly animated in the aftermath. She strode across the room to the one standing R-Sec, who'd disengaged his visor. "Who are you? Where's your captain?"

"I'm PFC Kaufman, ma'am." The R-Sec was the one who'd carried in his teammate. He was twenty-ish, fair, and drawn from fear. "He's _fucking dead_! He's fucking dead because those motherfucking things swarmed us! They fucking came from-"

_EEEK._ A long, terrible silence descended on the group. Collectively, everyone held their breath. Nobody dared move. _EEEEEEEK. _Something was at the door, scratching at it, seeking entrance. _EEEK, EEEKEEKEEKEEEEEK…_the scratching rose in volume and speed until it sounded as if there were dozens of nails shredding the door, biting it, chilling to the bone, over and over and over. Infuriated roars erupted so close Isaac felt he could reach out and touch the Necromorphs. After a few seconds, the noise faded and stopped.

Octavia had put a death-grip on his arm, cutting off circulation. "What…what was that?"

"They're going into the vents." He spoke generally, scanning the ceiling and walls and finding three of them at least. "Daniels, this place is a deathtrap. We need to get the hell out or it'll be a bloodbath and you _know it._"

The old woman heard him from across the room and replied with a glare. She returned her attention to Kaufman. "Get your men on their feet. We have to keep this room secure in order to retain the data from Convergence. We _will _succeed where others have failed."

A weight settled in the air. Isaac felt the Marker's influence ripen in the room, breeding from the cold fear buzzing in everyone's head, fighting their sanity for control to throw them deeper into madness. Deeper under its evil influence. He would not let that fucking Marker win. Deliberately, he used the wall as a crutch and levered himself from sitting to standing. He was within full view of everyone in the room. Octavia kept her hand on his arm to support him as he climbed to his feet.

"We have to get out of here." He spoke with careful enunciation, with his will, his stubbornness, with his experience. Every set of eyes were on him. "The Necromorphs that slaughtered the rest of the station will come in through the vents and kill everyone. There is nothing holy about them. They were bred to kill and-"

"_Blasphemy!_" Daniels exploded, her finger pointing at him, white wisps of hair flying from her neat twist. The Marker had completely dominated her. "_Heresy!_ Convergence comes with sacrifice! The faithful will not die! They go with the Marker on a glorious journey to a new life, where they will be rewarded for their loyalty! R-Sec, execute him! Execute him at once!"

Nobody moved. They seemed to wait for Isaac's reaction. He relaxed, heard their fretful thoughts swirling around like flies, stinging and irritating, and shored up his courage to give to them in absence of their own. "I know you are scared. I know you are confused. But you have to choose between Unitology's Convergence or surviving this nightmare. You have to choose between what you know to be truth and what is a lie." A distant clank, with faint scrabbling, came from above them. Everyone startled and faces turned upwards. Eyes shifted nervously. A murmur spread through the scientists. "You have to choose _now_."

In the pause that followed, he felt the atmosphere calm. Fear was palpable, it was always under the surface in the Marker's signal range, but the sharpness of it had been blunted. An undercurrent of sanity washed the atmosphere. He saw they'd reacted to his words and presence and they'd given him some measure of trust and respect. At least they listened to him.

Clapping turned aside his attention. "Bravo, Mr. Clarke," said Daniels. It was she who clapped. "What a lovely speech. I don't know about the rest of you," she swept out her arms to encompass the group, "but I'm not convinced. Especially not by a _terrorist_ who's destroyed the Sprawl." Another lingering silence. "You don't have much to say about that, do you."

He chose to address the onlookers. "When I destroyed the Red Marker on Aegis VII, it left blueprints in my brain. EarthGov brought me to Titan to extract the data and used it to build a Gold Marker over the station's core reactor. _That _destroyed the station."

"And who pulled the power cell that kept the government sector secure? Hm? Was it Santie Claus? Or a magical leprechaun?" She chortled. "No. _You _unleashed Convergence on those unworthy soldiers. It was _you _who somehow sabotaged the core reactor and sent the station into a meltdown. It was all you."

"I admit those things. But the destruction of the public sector was nothing to do with me. It started with headaches and bad dreams, didn't it?" Again, he addressed the R-Sec intermingled with the scientists and technicians. "Long before I ever sent that message or stepped foot on this station, it started. You heard things, saw people that couldn't possibly be alive. Suicide and murder rates jumped. Then came the stinking corruption, oozing into vents, distorting communications, and then rumors started that there were strange things lurking around."

He noticed several in the audience nodding their heads. "You thought you'd be safe here, close to the Marker. But it's whispering to you. Making you think things you wouldn't normally think. Speaking to you. And now, everything's falling apart because it isn't the sort of thing that can be controlled. It isn't something one man can cause. This is orchestrated by an organization with powerful people in high places, not the kind of people who would associate with a terrorist such as me."

"What a pitiful, weak defense." Daniels sighed. "I've grown tired of it. I've grown tired of obstacles that hinder an awing event. Holy Convergence is upon us. Now. You," she pointed to Kaufman, "if you don't execute him, give me your weapon and I'll do it for you. In fact, all these pathetic heretics offend me. Get rid of them in the name of holy Altman."

Kaufman didn't respond. Instead, his eyes assessed Isaac, who looked back unfazed, then gazed out across the pale, frightened countenances of the unarmed people around him. He surveyed his remaining team, and some imperceptible communication occurred among them. Then his jaw clenched and he hitched up his pulse rifle, drawing back his shoulders.

"Ma'am," Kaufman said, "with all due respect, fuck you. My men and I aren't going to die for your fucked up religion today." He brushed past her to approach Isaac and the little group of prisoners, ignoring her slack-jawed expression. "Clarke, if what you've said is true, you're our best chance of getting out of here alive. Goodwin, release the prisoners and return their weapons."

"_You fool!_" howled Daniels. Her skin bloomed red with her wrath. "I'll have you court-martialed for your insubordination!_ Goodwin!_" She charged across the room to snatch Goodwin's arm as he reached for the keycard at his belt. "You will _not_ release those prisoners!"

Isaac watched the struggle between the tall and broad soldier and the slim, petite older woman. He could tell the R-Sec didn't want to harm Daniels, so he was being overly delicate with her, even as she flailed and stomped on his foot. He was quick enough to block her knee from slamming into his groin by jerking up his own knee. But when her hands scrabbled over his gear, dangerously close to a pistol's holster, Isaac sensed she had a murderous intent.

"She's going for the sidearm," Isaac told Kaufman. "Don't let her get it."

Kaufman's brow furrowed- -he saw where her hand had slipped- -and he grabbed Daniels' arms, putting her in a submission hold while Goodwin stepped backwards, recoiling from her violence. Daniels furiously squirmed, spitting curse words and threats that no one responded to. She attempted to tear out of Kaufman's arms as Goodwin approached with the keycard in his hand. Her vicious yanking and twisting broke her free from Kaufman's grip; she pounced, her hand striking out and slapping the keycard from Goodwin's fingers. It skittered across the floor.

What followed was chaos.

From the vents, a nerve-shattering roar preceded an enormous crash as Necromorphs sliced through the metal grating and thudded to the floor from the ceiling. Alarms blared; lights flashed. Everyone screamed as the room went into lockdown. R-Sec opened fire. Coolly, Isaac saw that there were three slashers and they were advanced. He shifted, knocking aside Octavia, and shuffled over to the keycard lying discarded on the floor. Five R-Sec should be enough, but the Necromorphs bore down on them with horrifying speed and agility. Isaac dropped to his knees then rolled to his back, using touch to try and find the fucking keycard.

"USE STASIS! STASIS THEM!" he shouted to Kaufman and Goodwin when the slashers closed in. "_STASIS_!"

Kaufman must've heard what he said. He stretched out his hand. Blue-tinted stasis leapt from his palm and entrapped the three slashers in quick succession for his teammates, who dispatched them of their limbs. Three more shot out of the vents, and one came tearing out of the wall close to Isaac and the others. It careened around, headed for the closest fresh meat- -his friends. His fingers had the keycard but the angle was all wrong and he couldn't get the card into the reader slot, fumble as he might.

Then rescue. Octavia leaned over him and swiped the card through the cuffs, freeing up his hands. She helped him stand. He felt her shaking, but she understood him when he frantically gestured to the others.

"Free them!"

She nodded and spun, her loose hair flipping around with her. Isaac saw two more Necromorphs standing up behind the one that the two R-Sec officers were shooting, and for lack of a better idea, he put them into stasis to give Kaufman and Goodwin more time. Then he attempted to TK the blades off one felled slasher- -the body jerked slightly but the bone ripped from it, and he released it on one slasher he'd put into stasis. The slasher flew backwards and the blade pinned the grisly body to the wall. At this time, Kaufman and Goodwin had dismembered the second slasher, and the others had squared off the threat.

When the R-Sec ceased fire, the scientists' screams tapered, and one groaned, "Fucking shit. Fucking _shit_. Shit," as a mantra over and over. The lockdown ceased and the room went back to normal, washed colors. In the firefight, a few rounds had gone wild, taking out some lights. They buzzed, hissing, as electricity sparked from broken covers.

Isaac glanced over to check on Ellie, Noah, and Lexine. They were huddled together on the floor, shivering and pale. Octavia had not gotten to releasing Lexine; both women's faces were a mask of fear as Octavia helped turn Lexine around. He could see everyone's nerves were shot to hell when one light fixture collapsed and several people jumped and screamed.

"Is anyone hurt?" Isaac asked the group, rubbing his wrists to get the blood flowing again. "Anyone dead?"

"I think we're good," said one R-Sec, shakily, from across the room. "We're good."

But a cry interrupted them. "Millicent!" Octavia had freed Lexine and now she rushed to Daniels' prone body. Well, part of her body. Isaac stepped over, avoiding a hand, pieces of Daniels' arms, and her head. Blood had splattered over a meter arc when the slasher had diced her. "This is…she's…in pieces! Isaac…she's…in pieces!" Octavia turned wide eyes to him. "What should we do? This isn't…this isn't…" In those eyes welled fretful tears. When she spoke next, her voice was soft, childlike. "This isn't supposed to happen like this."

Isaac reached down to bring up his mother by her elbow. "I'm sorry, but we leave the dead." Turning to Kaufman, he said, "Have everyone reload and refill stasis. You need to give us our weapons."

Kaufman nodded his acknowledgment and jogged to the far side of the room to what looked like a locked case. Concerned, Isaac craned his neck to peer into a destroyed air vent. Already he heard more movement from the other end. "This lull won't last. We have to get everyone off the station. It's important for us to remain calm and think." He gazed out to the group of scientists in a big cluster in the corner. "What're our escape options?"

"We've got shuttles. All of us can easily fit on one," said a female scientist with shining auburn hair. "And it's a fairly straight path."

But Isaac shook his head. "We can't trust shuttles. There's something out there, something big, and it might sense and destroy us. I've already seen a shuttle go down from it." That had been a hard lesson learned.

One scientist who was white-capped with a matching bushy beard came forward. "There are some cryogenic escape pods on the other side of the tower." He strode to the platform to put a hand on the observation windows. "They were installed in the event that the shuttles experienced catastrophic failure. They're an emergency failsafe. We can get there by taking the catwalk around and going through the education center. And they're much smaller than the shuttles, so if what you're saying is true, those might go unnoticed."

"But the door," said a woman with glasses. "We can't get to the catwalk from here. We have to go out and around." She visibly swallowed. "Through the hallway."

From his side, he saw Ellie move towards a desk area where a stool had been toppled from the flurry of movement. "That shouldn't be a problem," she said and hefted the stool. "We can break these windows and slip out."

"We'll put out three soldiers onto the catwalk to cover the window and the door." Kaufman had come forward, his arms filled with plasma cutters and a contact beam. "That way we can even out our fire power and assist the people climbing out of the window. Goodwin, take the director's RIG and put in the override codes for the lockdown procedure. That oughta prevent us from being boxed in."

"Good plan. Everyone else, move fast and move silent," Isaac said. He accepted the plasma cutter Kaufman handed him as he addressed the scientists. "We'll be attacked in here for sure and soon. Stay low and keep going through the window. No matter what happens, _keep moving_."

Ellie took the contact beam, leaving Lexine with her pistol and Noah with the remaining plasma cutter. Octavia had refused being armed. First thing Isaac did was to check his cutter for an ammo count; it was fully loaded and functional. He noticed Noah doing the same, and he showed the kid how to eject and slot in a fresh clip. As the R-Sec lined up the scientists for some semblance of organization, Ellie chucked the stool through the window, shattering it beautifully. Humid heat blasted into the room and the temperature rose twenty degrees.

Three R-Sec climbed out of the window, their pulse rifles at the ready and flanked the windows, covering opposite ends of the catwalk. Isaac began to help scientists scramble through the window, and they were doing well. Nearly half the scientists had exited onto the catwalk when leapers attacked.

The leapers- -spiny, elongated mutations- - flung their bodies to the walls, to the catwalk, and there were so many that it seemed they came from all sides, an infestation of them, that they seemed innumerable. But inside the room, Isaac had other problems. Advanced pukers, an exploder, and several other advanced slashers dropped from the ceiling vents. Sheer luck had the exploder, with emaciated and twisted flesh, on the very far side of the room, but Isaac had forgotten the blindness in his eye. It took him three precious shots to detonate the yellow explosive bulb. The explosion felled a puker and a slasher, leaving them splattered on the floor.

Afterwards, he, R-Sec, Ellie, and Lexine had judiciously applied stasis on everything that had moved and no one stopped shooting until nothing continued to move. They were not without casualties. A puker had melted two scientists into a hissing, steaming lump of goo, and another had been caught under the razor blades of a slasher. Outside, several more scientists had been taken down by the leapers, but the R-Sec had protected the majority.

There was no time to celebrate victory. More Necromorphs swarmed out of the vents and so the escape had to be made under fire. Worse than that was the arrival of the hunter. Isaac had heard something big clamoring through the vents and when it hopped to the floor, Isaac immediately put it into stasis in order to lob off its limbs. The fear of it gripped his throat, but he turned to Ellie and the R-Sec standing in a firm line beside him.

"Everyone get out, _now._ I'll keep it distracted," he said. He noticed a terminal next to the locked door. The hunter's body was wracked with spasms as fresh tissue and bone crunched outwards. "I'll meet up with you."

Ellie grabbed his arm. "Don't do it. Please, stay with us." She looked so wounded. "Stay with _me_."

He shook his head. "Go with the others. Get Noah and Lexine off the station."

He turned aside and dodged across the pocked and bloodied battlefield to the stasis unit to refill his module and to pick up any ammunition he could from the bodies. On the other side of the destroyed room, the R-Sec hoisted the remaining survivors out of the window onto the catwalk. Ellie's eyes were on him, imploring him even as Kaufman pulled her along by her wrist. Then she was out of sight.

At his feet, hell spawned.

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**A/N:** I apologize for the series of cliffhangers; I know they are agonizing. Hopefully, I'll see you all for the next update on 2/23/13. Until then!


	26. Choices

**A/N: **Welcome, everyone! Before you start reading, I want to tell you how wonderful you are. Every week, week after week, you come to this story, and read and read and read. Thank you. Really, thank you. I know there are readers out there more vocal than others, but even if you say nothing, the numbers on my stats page don't lie. All of you have made writing this story well worth it, and I hope that it continues to bring you the enjoyment & entertainment that you expect.

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**Chapter Twenty-six: Choices**

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Well, this was a stupid fucking idea. Volunteer to be a distraction? What the hell is the matter with me? Isaac thought, as he again dosed the lump of bloody flesh at his feet with stasis before ripping into the terminal to hack the door, the metal clanking loudly where he flung it. And damned if I'm stuck in a locked room with a hunter again.

Irritation died under the deafening cry of the Necromorphs that rose around him, blaring from the ventilation system, underscored by the low, deep vibration of the Marker charging up to complete Convergence, and his nerves were so frayed that his hands shook apart the wires he needed to coil together. Dammit, Clarke. Get it together.

Some sixth part of him monitored the hunter's regeneration- -reminding him quite factually that chances were good he would die in this shithole place- -and when the door unlocked, he spun to hit the hunter with stasis a third time. The limbs had already regenerated, flesh and bone rippling, spraying blood on the floor, so he dismembered it for good measure, and dodged across the control center to the stasis refill. On his return trip, his audio crackled with static, but the link was too weak to sustain and went dead.

No matter. From the control center's entry, Isaac entered the lifeless hall, traveling as fast as caution allowed under the sporadic lights, which had been damaged and hung, torn from the mounts in the ceiling. The walls were suspiciously free of Necromorphic activity. There was no room for hesitation. His footsteps clunked too loudly in the quiet aftermath, but he had no time to keep quiet. The hunter would be on his ass if he lingered in one place. As he turned a corner, searching for a sign to the catwalk, static burst into his eardrums. His nerves, already edgy, juiced adrenaline through him.

The static faded, replaced with some heavy breathing. "Isaac? Isaac, can you read me?"

"I'm here." He didn't recognize the voice. To calm his thudding heart, he ducked into an alcove, where he stumbled over a torso that was almost unrecognizable. Stripped of skin and most of the muscle and flesh, it was a gory chunk of meat with an exposed tangle of white bone. It had been an R-Sec. Deftly, Isaac searched for extra supplies, finding a spare stasis module and a medium med-pack. "Who is this?"

"Doesn't matter. It doesn't matter." The voice broke into a high sob. "We're dead. We're all dead. De_aaaad_."

Isaac peered around the corner of his alcove. "Where are you?"

Over the audio, the heavy breathing continued until the link snapped off. Nothing stirred in the hall and the inactivity threatened him, winding tighter his nerves. A few meters further was a burnt-out sign indicating the direction of the observation catwalk. He frowned, but stepped back out into the hall to move towards the catwalk. He jogged maybe two meters before twin blades punctured the wall on his left, forcing him into diving to the floor and scrambling on hands back. A roar blasted over him as the stink of rotted flesh blossomed ripe in the air. The metal sliced like it was no more than paper, crunching and shrieking as it split apart. Then the hunter unfolded its long limbs to stand erect in front of him, mandibles slobbering and open to show sharp, needlelike teeth, and ponderously swung in his direction.

Self-preservation made his reaction easy. He lurched to his feet and ducked around, launching himself to the hall under the sign, but in his rush, he tripped over some scattered tools and loose napalm canisters rolling around on the floor. It wasn't so much the fact that he crashed face-first to the floor, it was the fact that Necromorphs of every shape and size barreled from hidden nooks and crannies, their blackened skin and glowing eyes demonic, nightmarish. Their noise…their noise drowned him.

"You can't take them all," Nicole blurted from his audio. "Run!"

Isaac didn't stop to question her; he knew she was right. It was visceral how he felt the Necromorphs' presence hemming him in. His arms shoved the rest of his body upwards, but he had to flop sideways, shifting to his back when a bladed appendage scythed within centimeters of his head. It nicked his shoulder, and he had to ignore the searing pain in favor of survival. He wiggled away before another blade whammed into the metal floor with startling power.

Blindly, he kicked, knocked the nearest Necromorph screaming to the floor, but others swarmed his location, a precious few meters close, suffocating him. His elbow clanged off a small canister. Anything, any way, to get space between himself and _them_, desperate, he flung the napalm at a tight knot of various Necromorphs blocking his path, and clipped off a couple shots. The canister blew in a muffled _whump_. A resulting shockwave slammed him backwards into a wall, spinning stars across his vision, but the oncoming monstrosities disintegrated into the consistency and coloration of spaghetti sauce. Bits and chunks rained down. At least a dozen or more Necromorphs writhed on the floor, skittering to get on their feet and after fresh meat.

Dizzy, ears ringing, he hoisted his battered body from the floor and stumbled-tripped into a jog towards the hall leading to the catwalk. He careened around the corner into a longish corridor, urging his body to go _faster_. Seconds behind him, he knew the Necromorph horde scrabbled upright. Up ahead was a glass door leading to the observational catwalk. The Marker's tines were lit with sinister energy, cuneiform twinkling and dancing on the slate skin, beckoning its children ever closer.

Not bothering to bar the door, he skirted through and clomped along the catwalk. He saw where the control center was located, a quarter of the circle around, and the exit he needed on the other side, much too far, before a horrendous smash indicated the progression of the Necromorphs through the glass door and onto the catwalk. The howls and screams clamored after him. Several leapers lurched around the dome arching over the Marker, but if he was fast enough, he could run and gun through their ranks.

Lungs burning, his muscles locking, he doggedly ran forward. But it was not to be. The hunter burst from a side panel- -an inconvenient vent, in all likelihood- -blocking Isaac's path. It so suddenly appeared that he could only react. He bent double at the waist, and at the same time, coiled his leg muscles to spring forward. The powerful dive between the stumpy legs, metal bits of suit clicking against the catwalk, slid him home to the other side of the hunter. Shakily, he hauled himself to his feet with the railing, but he couldn't help seeing how far from the ground floor he was. A fall like that would kill a man.

The thought was no more as Isaac sensed danger raging behind him, closing rapidly, too fast, and with the cold calculation of someone who regularly makes hard decisions, he leveled his plasma cutter to the clustered leapers on the wall. With a steeling yell, he charged them, blasting away with plasma and dosing liberally with stasis. He leapt over convulsing torsos without slowing, put his head down, and fucking sprinted to round the section past the command center. A quarter of the catwalk to go for the exit.

A flit of movement was the warning that saved him. Isaac somehow ducked under the swinging blades of a slasher that had crawled out of the command center, but in the split second he brought up his cutter, cold numbed him. Oh, no. Fuck, no. It couldn't be, but it was. It was Greggs. A moment of thudding heartbeats as he and the thing that used to be Greggs stared each other down. Then it lunged.

The survival instinct that had kept Isaac alive time and again kicked in. "Sorry, Greggs." Then he squeezed the trigger.

Each plasma charge he used was bitter medicine, choking him, chipping at the ruins that had once been his conscience. He kept at it until Greggs- -no, the _slasher_- - was nothing more than dead flesh, a smattering of limbs, and a blood smear on the wall. Numbness swallowed him, gave him a home in a chilling puddle. He lowered the cutter and never felt more his age, never felt his bruises and broken bones more, never realized how fucking useless he was.

"And you will die useless, Isaac. You will let everyone die!" the Marker hissed to him. "Convergence has come!"

Hair on his body prickled when the atmosphere resonated with a deep, almost electric, charge. And then everything shook with a vehemence that threw him off balance and crashing sideways against the wall. His hand flung widely and the force of the hit slapped the plasma cutter from his grip. It skidded across the catwalk, disappearing over the edge before he could grasp it.

A groan; a whine of sheet metal flexed beyond its usual bounds. Overhead, panels popped from the concave ceiling and walls, winging into the pit below at terrifying regularity, bringing down snakelike tubes to hang in gentle swoops. Leapers skipped around, some landing on panels only to be tossed off, others leaping frantically to safety anywhere they could find. Sirens soared over the rumble, emergency lights coated the facility with orange, the rattle of metal coming undone, the moonquake so violent that Isaac's teeth chattered in his skull. Behind him, the deadly crowd of Necromorphs lurched forward, ever eager to add to their ranks.

Isaac had no choice but to scramble to his feet and hold firm to the railing as he traversed the meters separating him from the exit. The catwalk swayed under his feet; even with the tremors jerking everything around, he could tell the catwalk was unstable. He had less than four meters left before metal cried, twisting, and the stability beams tore from the nuts and bolts. To his side, the catwalk's platform swung from the wall, outwards to the middle of the nowhere. He froze. Fear kept his grip tight on the thin bar railing.

The catwalk would buckle under unsupported weight, but behind him, the Necromorphs clamored closer, a ruckus raised over the quake as they rushed at him, as they had no fear of death. He knew he had to keep moving, but he also knew that if he did, everything would collapse under his feet. He wouldn't get to the door in time.

"_Isaac! Isaac, you can make it!_" Ellie's voice carried to him over the pandemonium. "_Hurry!"_

His head snapped up and there she was at the little entryway like a beacon of hope, her hand outstretched to him. With her helmet down, wisps of dark hair had plastered against her cheeks. The ledge she stood on was solid; it did not shake and sway like the rest of the catwalk did and was the vestige of safety. If he could get to that section, he'd be okay. Salvation galvanized him into action, but too late. As he started forward, the combined weight of the Necromorphs did its damage and what upheld the catwalk crumpled, tossing everyone and everything aboard into free fall.

"JUUUUUUMP!"

What seemed like a flash occurred, his stomach swooping with dread, and before he could comprehend his own body's reaction, he'd vaulted off the catwalk, sailed in an arc to where Ellie stood. He stretched out his arm as far as it could extend. For a couple seconds it looked like he would make it. But the force of the desperate jump hadn't been enough. He knew he would miss the ledge at Ellie's feet by centimeters, and as his body started to obey the gravitational law, a grip like a vise clenched his wrist.

Ellie screamed with her exertion as she bore his hanging weight off the sheared catwalk. One arm was his lifeline, the other anchored her as she leaned. Below his dangling feet, the section of catwalk crashed into smithereens, scattering Necromorphs far and wide and crushing some others. With renewed strength, he reached up to grab the edge to prevent Ellie from being dragged down. Even as his muscles strained with the effort, the mounts that had upheld under Ellie's weight whined with the tension of accommodating two people. Together, they hoisted him up, but that cost them purchase on the catwalk as several support bars snapped.

He and Ellie flailed for balance, so close to the door, but the catwalk had had enough. Before they dropped, the door flew open and inwards they tumbled into the relative safety of the corridor behind the door. The door whooshed closed. Both of them panted for air and stayed sprawled on the cool floor, feeling vibrations from the floor, though much less violently than it had been. Something struggled under him. As Isaac shifted, he couldn't believe it when he came face to face with Octavia.

"Maman," he said before he could think to stifle the French impulse. He lowered his visor to gaze at her. "What're you…_doing _here?"

She patted his cheek. "You're my dear boy. I had to know you were safe." Her hair was wild, mussed, and was very, very strange to Isaac, who always associated Octavia with neat arrangement. There was even a streak of ash on her cheek.

"Didn't want…to do that again," Ellie huffed from beside them, "but…I knew…I had to…save your…ass."

"Thanks, but we're…not out of the woods yet," he replied, blinking sweat from his good eye. His right eye continued to be blind- -he wasn't sure yet if this was a permanent issue- -and climbed to his feet, helping Ellie and Octavia also. "Did the others get to the pod launch?"

"I'm not sure. I turned back halfway there," Ellie said. He couldn't resist tucking an errant strand of dark hair behind her ear, appreciating what she'd done for him. The corners of her mouth lifted as she batted his hand. "I see you've lost your cutter. Did you forget it somewhere, old man?"

"It got knocked out of my hand during the quake."

Ellie reached to her side and unclipped the spare cutter from her suit. "Luckily we have this one. The contact beam is low on ammo," she said as she stooped to pick it up from its place next to the door, "but better than nothing."

He checked the cutter over and as he did so, Octavia touched his arm and he winced at the sting. "Isaac, your shoulder!"

He'd forgotten he'd taken some damage as he'd run for his life. Octavia pulled her hand away when blood seeped to her fingers and stood staring at the red thickness with a mix of horror and anxiety. Ellie noticed Octavia's reaction, and brow furrowed, examined the wound. Then she snorted.

"It's superficial, but the suit's been compromised." She began patting the various pockets of her suit. "I think I've got some…yeah, here we are." From one zippered compartment, she withdrew a small, compact coil of wide repair tape. It would be a temporary fix only, but enough to seal his suit in the event of a vacuum. "Hold still. I'll patch you up."

Isaac stood without moving as Ellie went about taping over the tear in his suit. To better secure it, she propped up his arm and wound the tape fully around his shoulder joint. Octavia waited nearby, a frown fixed on her face as she watched Ellie's work. To break the silence, he said, "Have you heard from the Marker team at all?"

"No," Ellie said, using her teeth to tear the tape free. "Besides, our comms are buggered."

He believed her, but he opened a hololink and attempted to connect with Kaassen. To his surprise, the link went live and Kaassen's ugly mug and perpetual scowl came through the sporadic snow on the screen. "Yeah, Clarke?"

"Where are you? _How _are you?"

Kaassen paused. His nostrils flared on a face that was grey and sweat-streaked. Then he said, "We're bad, is what we are. We're trapped in a room on the ground floor. There's no way out."

"Are all of you together?" asked Ellie over Isaac's shoulder. She had finished the patch job on his suit. "We'll come get you."

He shook his head solemnly. "No. You're not risking…" Some interference with the signal distorted the video and after a few seconds, the link cut off.

After a disbelieving silence, Ellie said, "We can't leave them."

"I know." He turned and gazed at his mother who stood to the side, her mouth pursed. "Let's get you to the pod launch."

She nodded, and for some reason, she stepped forward to hug him around his waist, arms tight around him. Isaac's natural reaction was to hug her back, his arms going around her thin shoulders, and his reaction was what startled him the most as he'd never been inclined in recent history to hug her. Not that he _could_, with her missing these long years, but the period before that had been marked with animosity between them. With their embrace, he wondered when she'd gotten so thin or if she'd always been as diminutive as this. She wore her usual perfume, and it reminded him of when he'd been a boy coming home from school before his father had left and she'd always greeted him with a kiss on his forehead. That was the last instance he remembered his mother giving him any sort of affection.

"I've been wrong all these years, Isaac. Wrong about you and wrong about…Convergence. This isn't holy. I didn't think…I'm sorry," she whispered. "I hope you can forgive me."

Beside them, Ellie shifted, and she lightly brushed his shoulder. "We should go. We don't know how much time we have left before this whole place crumbles."

Octavia withdrew from his arms, and with a wistful smile, gestured to the end of the corridor. "She's right. The pod launch is this way."

He accepted the end of the moment, and he and Ellie put up their visors. Then Ellie took the lead, since she knew the path taken by the others at least partially, and Isaac decided to stay in the back with Octavia in the middle of the short line. At the end of the smallish corridor was a door, and through the door, was a conference room. He surmised it was used for higher-ups to view the research going on with the Marker. The room was large, sumptuous, with huge vidscreens, a podium, and comfortable seats behind long desks. Vertical windows lined the wall at even intervals, showing off part of the research facility. Far on the other side of the room were a set of double doors, which they headed towards down the central aisle between the desks and chairs.

"Look there," said Octavia, breaking from the formation to move to a window, "I can see the pods launching!"

The windows were wide enough that he and Ellie could stand with Octavia and gaze at what she watched with such rapt attention. Sure enough, at one protrusion of the facility, a series of yellowish rocket bursts spread metal capsules in a fan out into a dark void. Each capsule had a red beacon on it that blinked and glowed to catch attention visually as well as to show up on scanners and radar.

Ellie's sigh fogged part of the window. "They're safe. Thank God."

"May Altman be with us, what is _that_?"

Both he and Ellie focused their attention to the inner part of the facility. An enormous, sinuous length of flesh, colored a dark, angry red, slithered through a junction between two buildings. Faintly, a high-pitched roar drifted to them and the station reverberated with it, and with something else. The tentacle extended outwards, was joined by another, another, another…until it looked liked a whole nest of writhing snakes occupied the station's airspace.

Electric pain zigzagged into Isaac's skull. He gasped, flinching, and spun from the window as the environment became filtered through orange film. The Marker shrieked across the borders of his mind, punching into him as powerful as a charge of plasma, and he felt the malevolent glee as a signal pinpointed him, the psychic equivalent of 'Get em boys!'. It ebbed away, but the wash of agony left an aftertaste of bile in his mouth.

What was worse was that Isaac had suddenly become a human honing device for all things Necromorphic. He couldn't be more screwed had he pinned a sign to his back inviting Necromorphs to the slaughter. Another faint roar bellowed through the facility- -another shudder rippled into the station- -and the tentacles that had been dancing outside curved and whipped sideways.

Isaac grabbed the women's arms and hauled them into a run towards the exit.

They didn't get very far when the tentacles impacted the room. The force was enough to knock him off his feet. Glass blew apart, disappearing into twinkling shards. Sudden decompression ripped a huge section of chairs and desks from their mountings to go sailing into space. Muscular feelers dove at them from nearly every angle. One slapped Isaac and sent him on a dizzy tumble of limbs. He was caught in the suction, flailed for a few seconds, but managed to get his footing and clamp magnetically to the floor.

In the next instant, he snapped out his hand and grabbed Octavia's wrist to anchor her before she, too, went flying into space. But without a suit, she was susceptible to airlessness and frigid temperatures of a vacuum. All the air had not been displaced; it rushed out of the windows, whistling as it did so. Her legs dangled like a rag doll, her hair flying around her face. He had only precious seconds to get her to a pressurized and oxygenated area before she died.

"ISAAAAAAC!" The shriek exploded over his audio. "HEEEEELP!"

One of the tentacles had coiled around Ellie's leg. Across the room, she hung on for dear life on a support beam that decorated the edges of the conference room. She screamed again when it yanked her and a hand slipped its grip. Tell-tale yellow pustules showed weak spots. He had kept hold of his plasma cutter and brought it level, but with the debris and the movement of the other tentacles, he could not get a clean shot and he was as likely to take off Ellie's leg as would be to free her. His heart dropped to his stomach, a cold, calculating piece of his brain comprehending the situation. There would be no escape from the horrible choice.

"Isaac," Octavia said. He could barely hear her over the noise. "Let me go."

"ISAAAAAAAAC! ISAAC!"

He leaned against the pull of the vacuum, straining with every ounce of strength he had, and trudged an unsteady step toward Ellie. "No, Maman. I can save you both!"

"You can't," she said. "Say hello to your father, when you see him. Hm, dear boy?"

Then she twisted her wrist, outwards from his thumb, and his grip was lost. Octavia flew away with her arms spread, a wry smile on her lips, and joined the spewed debris outside the windows. Unencumbered, he put his sole attention on getting to Ellie, who had kept her grip like a champ, but was losing it even now. With the added distraction of wiggling tentacles, he was forced to clamber along using every trick he knew to get to Ellie, taking shots at yellow weak spots as he went. When he was close enough, he took careful aim and with one shot, disabled the tentacle that had captured her leg.

Released, her legs scrabbled around for purchase before finding the floor. At this point the environment was a vacuum and their air meters were falling. Also at this point, the half a dozen or so other giant tentacles convulsed and began whipping around trying to feel for its prey. Isaac yanked her by her arm, ducking as one swooped over their heads, and spun inwards to the support column.

"Damn! I lost the contact beam," Ellie said as they took refuge in the nook between two stalwart, connecting beams. Her heavy breathing crackled over the audio. "Where's Octavia? Is she safe?"

Isaac flinched back as a tentacle writhed less than meter from them. The thing had the door exits covered, but not some of the windows. They could possibly evade the tentacles long enough to find cover and find entry to the facility. "I lost her, too. We can't get out through the doors, but I think we can make an attempt out the windows."

"What?"

"We can make an exit through the windows," he repeated, "if we can-"

She cut him off. "No, I mean, you _lost _your mother?"

He let the silence speak for him before taking her hand with his. "We go for the windows, Ellie."

To her credit, she let the subject drop. "You're off your nut! These tentacles will grab us up."

"I'm not so sure. Whatever owns them doesn't have eyes on us. We can sneak through if we're careful," he told her, hoping he was right. "We need to get back into the facility, find the rest of the team and kill the Marker. Not necessarily in that order."

"Great," she said. "Do you suppose we can use our stasis?"

Her forethought was a good one. They both took a couple seconds to check and refill their stasis modules from spares they had in their pockets. Then they nodded at each other. With their diminishing air supply, Isaac didn't wait for her to be ready and launched out from cover. Free-floating in space gave them an advantage with maneuverability and with careful application of stasis, he and Ellie launched purposely out a broken window. Gently they angled themselves toward the main facility and what awaited there.

"Oh, that's bad," Ellie whispered.

Before them, an impossibly gigantic Necromorph soared upwards like some phallic undead god, waving ever so slightly on its pedestal, topped with a giant maw that yawned open. It protruded from a nest of tentacles. Feelers unfurled, touching, groping, the surfaces of Rhea Station. If Isaac's guess was correct, and he'd like to think it was, _that_ was the Necromorph responsible for batting down the shuttle full of survivors near the Japanese Commons, and furthermore, which was _even better,_ it seemed the Necromorph had risen right over the Grey Marker, a shield to protect the murderous piece of rock from someone like him.

He tightened his hand over Ellie's. "Yeah. Very bad."

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**A/N:** So, not one of my classic cliffhangers. Lots going on in this story and not much time for Isaac to process it. On a side note, if your discerning eyes spot any grammar errors, let me know. I've had a crappy week and hadn't the time (or motivation, to be honest) to give the story a line by line. As usual, hit me with any questions or concerns you have. Next chapter will be posted Mar. 2nd. See you then!


	27. Uncertain Circumstances

**A/N: **Welcome back, everyone! I hope you had a good week and are ready for a new chapter. Please, enjoy.

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**Chapter Twenty-seven: Uncertain Circumstances**

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"Shit, Isaac, we won't make it!" They floated, suspended in infinite space, slowly pressing forward with their suit stabilizers to the outer edges of Rhea Station. They moved much too slowly. _So_ slowly for the distance they needed to cover. Sinuous vines of raw muscle slithered and coiled on jutted, black buildings like a queen octopus residing over her kingdom. "It's too far!"

Ellie was breathless, panicky, over the audio in his ear. An airlock, outlined in blazing yellow, peeked from the jagged crags of rock. It was impossibly far from reach. But it was their one salvation across a field of debris, dangerous Necromorphic flesh, and airlessness. Chunks of the station torn free when the colossal dead thing had surged from Rhea's rocky depths floated languidly along in the open space. Nothing he peered at held any kind of aide.

"We'll make it. Conserve your air," he replied. His implicit meaning was clear: talking would waste oxygen.

She didn't click off the link, as if she needed it hot to convey her thoughts or emotions or, worse, her asphyxiation. There was a bad moment when he could imagine her choking, gasping, clutching at him in the throes of agony. Abruptly, he shook from it. Still, a bug of anxiety nibbled at the corner of his mind, so he thought of other things, his brain buzzing with the million problems, solutions, plans, but always, always falling back to the diminishing air supply. To Ellie. If he was to be honest with himself, he would admit they may not make it. That he would not bear.

Quietly, purposefully, they guided their suits. Ellie was out ahead of him and the decreasing O2 meter drew his eye. Not much time left. Not much at all. Don't panic. _Don't_ panic. They had entered into a field cluttered with bits and pieces of stone from buildings, ripped and mangled metal, and boulders as big as Isaac was. Together, they maneuvered through the obstacles, but at one point, he accidentally nudged the wrong piece of slag. It knocked into some exposed skeleton of a machine- -looked like a solar panel- -which broke the tight cluster of junk, separating out and exposing a cluster of motionless bodies.

Isaac caught hold of Ellie's leg, tugging her, and when she rolled to face him, he gestured to the side. The corpses might have extra air tanks, heavy emphasis on the 'might'. He couldn't see her look, but he was sure it was designed to berate him for using oxygen on a risk. Gently they floated to the bodies that were not in any way deformed or gnawed. Few had open cuts and bruises. A woman's long, black hair spread out, her eyes wide and blank and coated with frost. She bumped into a slim man with short-cropped hair and together, they eased off to the side.

"Over here," Ellie said through the link. "Jackpot."

He saw she had pressed forward into the free-floating rubble and was gesturing to him from the broken hull of a shuttle. The shuttle had taken massive damage, crushed at the nose and torn asunder at the body, with black scorch marks marring the paint and metal. Several bodies remained strapped into the seats, limbs weightless…an unpleasant reminder of what happened to Alice, Maheer, Grace and the others.

He felt as though they watched him from whatever realm they inhabited- -their dead eyes locked forever on him. His body shuddered with revulsion, a reaction he could not prevent, but rather than taking a moment, he forced himself to continue. The eerie feeling remained as he followed Ellie deeper into the destroyed shuttle and together, they rummaged in the cabinets, finding an emergency stock of air canisters. Four small ones were all that had survived, but he'd take it over nothing.

Armed with the air cans, they were about to slip free from the wreckage and back into the motionless graveyard when a thick tentacle plowed into the shuttle. Ellie was knocked hard into him and in a tangle, they crashed into the supply cabinets. Blindly, he flung out a hand, grabbed her wrist, and held on to a ceiling bar for all he was worth. He did not know what had caused this spontaneous violence. After that, they spun and rocked out of control in such a way that when they slammed to a rest, he was completely disoriented and breathless.

"Are you hurt?" he asked Ellie as he released her wrist. He felt pretty battered, himself. Their scavenged air cans had somehow remained inside the shuttle, so he packed them under an arm.

She shook her head. "A little shaken up, but fine otherwise." Gingerly she maneuvered to a torn-open section of the shuttle to peer out. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure," he told her, "but it should've had us by now."

He came up beside her to look. Sunlight glinted through a halo of shattered glass that had coalesced into a sparkling ring around the station. From their distance, Isaac noticed that the entire station rumbled and rattled under the mass of the colossal Necromorph. Its immense tendrils continued to feel around, without much purpose or direction, it seemed, and he realized that the psychological signal that linked him to the Marker was blocked, somehow. He couldn't be sure if it was that he wasn't close enough or if there was some other reason. Always he'd been able to track the Marker's movements or not so consciously, but an instinct that gave him suggestions as to what it planned.

Ellie pointed toward the yellow-striped airlock, obscured by floating debris. "Let's get inside the station. I feel too exposed out here."

"Right." Isaac took the lead, handing her two of the air cans. "Stay with me."

He heard the smirk in her tone. "You know I will."

The comment hung between them as his suit stabilizers hissed and puffed to push him in the correct direction and altitude toward the air lock. Much of their time resulted in their clearing a path. Luckily, their telekinesis helped shift the larger pieces of rock and metal so that they didn't waste too much air and time. Even then, they had used both of their air cans and were running dangerously low when they set foot on the airlock. It was undamaged, but needed a quick rewire before it opened and let them into the oxygen-rich station.

He held his breath- -if the Marker had waited for him to come back in range, this would be the time. But nothing happened as they glanced around at their surroundings; a waiting, watchful presence surrounded them. They had come in on a broad deck. Beneath their feet yawned out a deep, wide cavern and hewn black rock. Everything was dark, with a few pitiful emergency lights showing a path over a narrow catwalk that wound between a maze of chainlink fencing. Immense structures took shape behind the fences where cogs cranked and churned. A low throb vibrated the air from the rumble of the machinery, and Isaac felt it in his lungs, in his brain. The noise was deafening enough that he had to raise his voice to be heard over audio.

"Looks like we're in a manufacturing facility of some sort!" He pointed in the direction they faced. "If we keep going, we might find a directory to get us back to gov-sec."

Ellie shouted, "Shouldn't we find weapons first?"

"There should be some around somewhere! Keep your eyes peeled!"

She nodded. Isaac took the lead again and approached the narrow walkway hung with thin support beams and bolts, and took a resigned sigh when he recognized his own hesitation. Get it over with, Clarke, he told himself, stepping out onto the catwalk. One step at a time, then another, and another, until you're done.

His eyes strained in the dimness as he searched for any movement. If a Necromorph horde descended, they would have precious little maneuverability or warning. Ten minutes had passed, according to his chronometer, and with each ticking second, he felt more vulnerable and paranoid, especially since he felt naked without a weapon of any sort. Nor did any corpses litter the area. Finally, he rounded another machine and in full view was the end of the catwalk, which came to an elevator.

Relieved, Isaac picked up the pace. "Looks like we're in luck!"

The elevator was labeled for Merchant's Quarter Shipping Main Floor. Offhand, Isaac remembered Merchant's Quarter Shipping as a sister company of the CEC, with a focus on polishing and sending out what the mining company dug up, among other products. Inside was quiet compared to the pounding sound of the machinery, but they heard the noise muffled through the walls. "Looks like we're going up," Ellie said as she activated the holopanel. The elevator hummed in ascent and shortly after, it opened to a lobby. The lobby indicated three areas: Main Control, Shipping and Receiving, and Shipment Processing.

In Main Control, they would find a database that would show them a supplies cache, a route around damaged areas, and if they were really lucky, a communications line that would allow them to talk to the Marker team. Because the crew worked around machines that caused interference with RIG signals, a secondary communications system was usually installed to smooth out and amplify link interfaces. The idea mimicked the old Earth technology of "landline telephones". Communication in those days was done over wires that hung from poles or that were buried underground. He and Ellie might be able to connect their RIGs to the communications system and transmit it into gov-sec.

"Watch your step," he said to Ellie before exiting the elevator door. She nodded and followed behind him.

At a jog, he came to some heavy barred doors which hissed compressed air as they slid the bolt back and rolled apart. The path was broad, messy, and unlit, but enough light came from his suit to illuminate where he stepped. Some rubble had piled up calf-deep at the edges, which he skirted by staying at the very center. Several other entrances were completely caved in, blocked off with the shiny, jagged rock. He tried not to overanalyze it too much. In fact, the station had not quaked for some time now. The inertness served to underscore the Grey Marker's lack of recent activity.

Ellie picked up speed, passing him in the hall. "There it is!"

The door ahead of them was unlocked, opening without a problem when Isaac activated it. A large room lined with metal shelving and lockers stood abandoned. No corpses or gore or corruption greeted them. In fact, it seemed as if everyone was on lunch break, except for the fast-food wrappers crumbled up and scattered across the dashboard of the control panel. On the few functioning vidscreens were camera shots within the facility. Through a glass partition, a large docking bay spread out before them, somewhat undamaged. In a corner was a lift which was off-line. It looked to descend directly to the dock.

Ellie took charge, disengaging her visor, and sat at the main panel in an ergonomic chair. Under her fingertips, the interface lit up from sleep mode and opened an interactive holographic display.

"Looks like we're in business," she told him, her face awash in green glow. "I think I might be able to swing this."

To give her some time, he made himself useful and stepped to the metal shelving units to pick through the usual variety of items left by the crew. He couldn't help but thumb over the Marker's sudden inactivity. It had not made any overt attempts to attack them, even when it knew they were without weapons, and he was certain it had a lock on his position through whatever psychic means it used. And why would it actively block that connection? Surely it wouldn't care that Ellie was with him. So what was it waiting for?

He mulled this over as he moved to the lockers to loot them. Perhaps the Marker considered his threat inconsequential or maybe it had sent a horde that had yet to reach them. Maybe it bided its time, setting a slow trap for him to fall into. Not knowing was what killed him. One thing he knew for certain- -the Marker's signal at this point was stronger than ever. He didn't need the shared connection to _feel _its power. It had to know where he was and it must be waiting for him to separate from Ellie to attack him both mentally and physically. As much as he hated the idea of it, Ellie was probably safer here without him around. Going off to gather weapons by himself may draw any Necromorphs away from her for him to deal with.

If that was the case, he would have to convince Ellie of it.

After a few unsuccessful minutes of scavenging, he leaned over her shoulder to watch her work, curious to see her progress. "It might be a good idea for us to split up. I can go gather supplies and you can try to patch into the comms system. We need the team's status."

"I was thinking that, actually," she said. He'd been sure she'd argue with him. Then a few seconds later, "Ah, there we go. It looks like there's a tool repair workshop on the bay floor." His RIG bleeped with coordinates as her fingers tapped the keyboard. "There doesn't seem to be any major obstacles. I'll stay here and keep an eye on you."

"Let me know if you get through to the Marker team," he told her as he stood at the door, hesitant to leave her by herself. "Signal me if anything goes wrong. And do you have the-"

She laughed. "Stop clucking, mother hen. The more you stall, the more likely we are to be found."

Isaac shut up, but spared her one last glance. Her attention had already turned to the control panel. She seemed calm with her wits about her; time and again he'd seen her handle crises and she was right…the more he hung around the more time he wasted. When the door closed behind him, he noticed it switched to the orange LOCKED holograph. Isaac traversed the walkway the direction they'd come.

"How're you doing?" Ellie asked in his ear, not more than two minutes after he started off.

"This place is a mess. It'll take an excavation team weeks, if not months, to clear out all this fallen rock," he replied to humor her. Up ahead was the entrance to the lobby. "Nothing's jumped out to shout 'boo' yet."

"That's good." For some reason she hesitated. Then she said, "Isaac, I'm going offline for a few minutes. I've managed to plug my sec-suit in to the system, but the comms need a reboot to be fixed. After everything's rebooted, I'll have a clear channel to speak with the Marker team."

Isaac had reached the lobby entrance. It had faired a bit better than the tunnel, but several corridors had collapsed under the heavy lode of rock, including the corridor to the docking bay. A jumbled mess of steel support beams and bare mineral spilled out of the caved openings. He stopped where he was and glanced up, staring in the direction where Ellie sat at the control panel. His right eye, the usually reliable predictor of attacks, was dormant and blinded. He couldn't be sure if this was a normal thing or something initiated by the Marker.

"Isaac?"

"That's too risky," he told her. "I can't be sure what the Marker has planned, but it'll love that we can't talk to each other."

She didn't say anything for a moment, then, "I see what you mean. It can wait till you're back up here with weapons."

Thank you for not arguing. "I'll try and be quick, but it looks like I'll have to take Shipment Processing. Is there a way through to the docking bay?"

He didn't disturb her as she concentrated on the maps in front of her. "Yes," she replied slowly. "Looks pretty dangerous. All the machinery is still active. Someone's…overridden the emergency shut-down for some reason. It's zero-g, too."

"Thanks for the heads-up," he told her, angling toward Shipment Processing. "We don't have any other options."

"Do you think they're still alive?"

At the end of the hall, he could see the lift, which seemed undamaged despite the moonquakes and fallen rocks. He wasn't sure what to tell her. "I don't know, but we can hope."

"We can hope," she echoed. She seemed to shake the melancholy. "Once you've taken the lift, you'll have to work your way across the floor to a secondary lift on the other side. Let me know when you've reached it…I have to access it from here."

They dropped the link and Isaac stepped onto the lift, activating it as he did so. In a high-powered hum, the lift jolted into its descent. A few seconds later, it whined and creaked, rattling under his feet, slowing to a creep along the track. Concerned for his safety, Isaac examined the track and found that it had warped in places. His guess was that the seismic activity had stressed the track. Shit. He could only have faith that the track would hold until he was finished with his errand. Minutes crawled passed until at last, the lift halted to the correct level.

In front of him was a deck- -for a crew to prep for their day- -spread out into a broad chamber. Lights had dimmed, throwing shadows onto the walls and floor. Along one wall was a line of trashed and dented lockers and in a corner was a store, which was shattered, splattered with blood. A copious amount of dark red had dried in the center, with several trails leading off into ripped side panels that were similarly coated. He didn't like that that he could count the number of fingers that had clawed for life at the nocks in the flooring.

Quickly, he took a second to search the lockers, finding only a few hundred credits and a small med-pack. Then, tiptoeing, he continued forward to the large, circular doors on the opposite side of the deck, which seemed to open to a massive facility. The gears from the floors above them must be for the heavier equipment. The door spun and unlocked when he activated the lock.

When the door spread apart, he hesitated. The area spanned many meters high and wide and was riddled with whirling, active machinery that would happily shred or grind him into slush. However, safety fences were up and guard rails, so he felt more comfortable around the deadly cranks and gears. He continued to wind his methodical, careful path between the maze of giant drills, pistons, and other machinery, keeping his eye peeled for any Necromorphs that might be present, but it seemed they'd deserted this area of the station. Not that he was complaining.

Under ten minutes later, none the worse for wear, Isaac arrived at another door that opened for him into yet another deck, and he continued forward into the barely-lit area. At the back of the deck was the lift Ellie had told him about.

"All right, I'm here. Send the lift," he said. A second passed, but Ellie didn't respond. Instantly, he keyed up, anxiety stringing a chill through his bones. "Ellie? _Ellie_?"

"I'm here, I'm here," she replied. Even as her voice soothed him, he thought he picked up a strange drawl to her words. "No need to get frantic. I was…in the middle of something."

The hesitation sounded a powerful alarm inside him. "Are there Necromorphs? Ellie, _are there Necromorphs?_"

With a spark of panic, he'd already spun on his heel and jogged back across the deck before she replied through static snow, "What? No. No Necromorphs. Everything's under control." Now she sounded like _he _was the one who was sounding strange. "I'm sending the lift to you now."

Isaac frowned at the chamber doors. Worry gnawed at him. A feeling that there was something she hid from him. "I'm coming back. We'll figure out-"

"You're too close to turn around," she interrupted him. "The lift will take you to the level with the repair workshop. We _need_ those weapons."

Mulishly he glared at the closed doors. He should go back to her. She needed his protection. Yet, how could he protect her without weapons? His heart thud under his ribs as his gut squirmed with uncertainty. Was he being paranoid? Behind him the lift shuddered up from the depths of its shaft and screeched to a halt. Stillness was a wet blanket around him. Apprehension weighed on his shoulders, a heavy yoke too burdensome to bear. What should he do? When he stepped from the doors, he felt if he went any further from Ellie, he would be leaving her to die. Again, he stopped.

"Why are you not on the lift?" Ellie asked. This time, her voice rang clear with irritation.

"No," he said, confused. "I'm…not sure…"

"Stop your wobbling about!" She no longer coaxed him; her tone was rigid. He could imagine her angry bicolor glare burning into him. "We _cannot_ defeat the Marker with our bare fists. The more you hesitate, the stronger the Marker becomes. Isaac…I can _feel _it." Her anger broke and he swore he could hear her shoulders slump. "You're strong, but it's…it's getting stronger. Please," her voice weakened, "please hurry."

The plea did him in. He expanded his lungs with air, fortifying himself, steeling his nerves for the final run. "You're right. I'm going."

Resolved, motivated, Isaac stepped onto the sizeable lift. She must've seen him from a video feed because the lift lurched into motion, lowering many meters into the bedrock of Rhea until the shaft opened up into a large docking bay. Metal and yellow paint (the diagonal stripes favored by industrialists) and towers of neatly stacked product greeted him. High over the floor of the bay, the fluorescent lights were harsh and mostly intact, casting a stark glare on makeshift barriers. Table-sized containment units, pieces of barges and shipment material had been piled up - -tossed together for cover. It was all that remained of desperate humans fighting as best they could against innumerable, hard-to-kill foes.

What surprised him was that the line of bay doors remained closed and undamaged, especially upon seeing the destruction on the bay floor. Several of the barges were overturned on the deck, spilling out their contents, and he recognized the failure to control the unwieldy ships and that had caused two or three pairs to collide catastrophically in the rush. An explosion of some sort had left char and scorch marks across the entire side right side of the area; the emergency system must've activated, suffocating the fire by venting the air.

At long last, the lift locked into its holders, allowing Isaac to take his first tentative steps into the docking bay. The size of the place shrank him to about the proximate height of an ant. Workers in this area had no chance. No doubt they'd been easily swarmed, even as the fast thinkers threw together those flimsy blockades. Tell-tale blood patterns painted a hopeless battle as he crossed the floor. None of this had been visible from the Main Control station. The silence was so thick, so anticipatory, so very much like the Marker holding its breath, waiting for him to misstep.

To keep his mind off the silence's density, he activated his audio. "I'm crossing the bay floor," he said. "Some terrible shit-"

Abruptly he cut off when he heard a shuffle behind him. Before he could adequately think, his instinct dodged his body to the side, where there was a slim opening between two of the crashed barges. That was as far as he could go forward. He'd be dead if he was caught here, his back to what amounted to a wall, so he dropped flat on his stomach and wiggled under the barge as far as he could manage. Not his best of ideas, but if the Necromorph was stupid, it wouldn't find him. If it was smart, it wouldn't get to him. He hoped. As he waited, he tasted his heartbeat in his throat, felt sweat dampening his forehead and the medallion's outline digging into his chest. He dared not shift.

His attention was solely on the slim opening that separated the floor from the barge's belly. Nothing for a long time. Perhaps he'd _thought _he heard it? Just as he convinced himself it had been nothing, and decided to move, he heard another shuffle. Frozen, he breathed as discreetly as he could. A few rustling footsteps around the edges of the barge where he couldn't see, more footsteps crunched over broken glass, and a pair of bloodied military-issue boots came into Isaac's narrowed field of vision. R-Sec. Another pair followed the first. Another pair. Another.

The R-Sec never said anything, but stood around for a minute or two. Lingering. Agonized, Isaac stayed frozen. What were they waiting for? But a part of him had already come to a horrible conclusion. Then a distant clatter of an object knocked over to the floor echoed through the enormous bay. The boots stepped around almost in tandem. And dread knifed his stomach when the feet blurred into sudden, erratic movement. If he'd have blinked, he'd have missed it. An electric blue streak tailed after the path of the boots, forward and away from where he hid.

There was no doubt. Reverse stasis effects. Twitchers lurked this area, probably the hardest to fight because of their speed and evasive movements, between Isaac and the salvation of a repair workshop. He had never felt so alone and vulnerable as he did now.

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**A/N:** I'll admit it, this chapter was a bit boring. It's a lot of set-up for future events, as this will be the setting for the next several chapters. Hopefully, that doesn't deter any of you from reading next week's chapter. We've got quite a few more chapters left to go, and in fact, I'm currently working on chapter 35, which marks the last quarter of Isaac's story. Whew. See you on Mar. 9th!


	28. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

**A/N:** Welcome back, dear readers and lurkers! I hope you are well and ready for another chapter of the story. Before you begin, I wanted to give a great big THANK YOU to everyone who has made this the top-reviewed M-rated Dead Space story. I couldn't have done it without your support, kind words, and thoughtful discussions. Please, enjoy.

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**Chapter Twenty-eight: Between a Rock and Hard Place**

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Being paralyzed by fear was one thing, but being paralyzed by the realization that no matter what he did he was truly, _royally_, fucked was a whole 'nother ballgame. Sure, he'd felt this way before, but this was a special case. On one hand, he had to run across a bay chock full of twitchers, which were faster and harder to kill than normal Necromorphs on a good day, and since he was currently in the middle of a very _bad _day, he had only his TK, stasis, and his threadbare wits; on the other hand, he could stay here and wait for death. He knew he had to move, but he couldn't quite convince himself that he would survive this encounter. It was a classic situation where he had made a decision because it was necessary, but his brain couldn't override his body.

From somewhere in the back of his mind, an image of Ellie came alive, when they were in bed together with her dark hair spread and wild across the pillow, of her contented smile and the admiration for him in her eyes. For Ellie, who was alone and waiting for him. For her, he would traverse the hell that was laid out in front of him. Her voice, her heat, her life effectively broke the paralysis that stayed him. Okay, old man, he thought, you're not getting any younger here.

Face to the floor, Isaac army-crawled to the gap between the crashed barge and the deck. Now that he knew what to listen for, he could hear the quiet footfalls; a soft scrape, a rustle, a boot toe dragged. No boots were in his view, though. In slow, coordinated movements he brought himself to his feet and as softly as his suit would allow, stepped to the mouth of the crack. A quick glance around confirmed he was alone, but probably right around the corner there was a monster hovering to slash and hack him to pieces.

His best bet for survival would be to move from cover to cover and avoid any direct confrontations. He could use his stasis and TK as offensive tools and there were plenty of sharp, pointy objects scattered around that he could throw to spear the Necromorphs. If he was fast, stealthy, and most of all, lucky, he might be able to find the repair workshop without dying first. Ellie had sent him the coordinates of the workshop, so he activated his waypoint. It glimmered blue and curved in the correct direction. What he could remember of the bay suggested that the workshop would be located back behind the towers of stacked product.

Creeping forward, he came to another junction. Before him on the open deck were a few toppled box units, forklifts, and a smattering of those hasty barricades. Also, twitchers. Loads of them. He counted a dozen before he quit because the number unnerved him. He might be able to duck and wind his way unnoticed, but the twitchers paced around in irregular patterns. The Marker might also signal them to his position just to fuck with him. Would it be better if he circumvented the entire area?

No. He couldn't waste any time. Sure it would be foolhardy, but straight forward was the quickest path to his destination. What he needed was a distraction, something to draw the twitchers from this area enough that he could cross. As he mulled over his options, he lifted his eyes to the ceiling of the bay. Built into the overarching ceiling were hanging tracks along which oversized motorized claws moved to aid the dock workers in stacking and transporting materials. One had lowered almost completely to the deck. As far as Isaac dared, he leaned around his corner. A stack of loose containers were heaped right in the path of the claw several meters away.

His stomach jittered with nerves as he checked to see if the claw had been locked down. Up near the base, he saw the absence of any locking mechanism. It seemed as if the claw was free-standing. Before he could talk himself out of it, he TK'd the claw and yanked it into motion along its track toward the stack. Effortlessly, the claw cranked into self-perpetuating motion as it swung forward and bore down on the metal and plastic units with a calamitous crash. Isaac had already slipped into hiding as several twitchers jerked past in that freaky stop-and-go stride.

Once the coast was clear, he booked it further across the docking bay, his senses hyper-aware of his surroundings and a cold film coating his skin under the sec-suit. At any point, this little situation could blow sideways. The twitchers still hemmed and hawed behind him, but he could sense a smattering of them up ahead between the enormous bundled pallets of what looked like raw black mineral from the Rhea's mines. He had to slow down, take his time, check his corners…_shit_.

Scythes spread and lethally arched, a twitcher lurched out in the narrow aisle between a sloppy barricade and a barge flipped to its side. Isaac didn't think. He put the Necromorph in stasis and TK'd the next nearest thing into the monster's face. The blue energy kept the twitcher in a slow-motion fall as Isaac ran by. He had to keep moving; to stop would mean being swarmed and dying. He couldn't afford to die. The twitcher's absurdly aglow eye burned into him and it would probably shriek a warning to the others that tirelessly roamed the aisles. His best bet- -get the hell away as fast as he could manage.

Like he'd thought, the twitcher let loose an ear-splitting shriek when the stasis wore off. Isaac veered to the side to keep out of sight. Necromorphs had the tendency to ignore what they couldn't see or hear. Scent had never been an issue, at least in Isaac's experience. Regardless, he picked up his pace and checked the waypoint for directions, fully expecting to be headed in the correct path. Dammit. He'd overshot a turn.

Enraged howls, plus the stomp of boots on metal interrupted his confusion. The noise deafened him, surrounded him; they were getting closer. Survival took precedent. He would continue to head forward and if the chance presented itself, he'd double back. Speedily, he dodged further between the layered pallets set in neat, extensive rows. Just as he turned a corner, he caught a bright blue glow out of the corner of his eye; he flung himself sideways and missed being skewered by two twitchers. Rolling to a stop, back against a pallet, he gave himself enough room to temporarily solve his problem with stasis. But stasis would not last forever.

He scrambled to his feet and fled further down the pallet rows, the cacophonous roars and tramp of the twitchers pressing in around him, filling his head so that he could barely think above the commotion. At this moment, he'd give anything for a rabbit hole to slide into, a tunnel where he could wait out the twitchers' search-and-destroy mode. Somewhere to wait for everything to quiet down a bit.

Surely, none such place existed. Isaac jogged on, a stitch jabbing his side with each labored breath he drew. He couldn't outrun them as much as he knew he had to. And the time for running away ended when a group of twitchers streaked to the floor like comets from the tops of the pallets. Too many for him to stasis at once, and too many for him to use TK on effectively. He was hemmed in on both sides.

Once on their feet, their bodies swung forward in that erratic, jerked sprint. But leaning haphazardly in a nook between two pallets was a lone fuel canister. Kinesis picked it up and launched it at the group bearing down on him. The explosion enveloped the twitchers, melting and burning their skin and muscles to dark char. Even as they collapsed into death throes, others lurched to fill their ranks.

Deftly, Isaac juked sideways into another narrow aisle, searching for any escape from the inevitable swarm. Their noise had reached an apex that deafened him enough to drown out his heavy footfalls- -a victorious, blood-thirsty roar that signaled the beginning of the end.

When he zigzagged into another aisle, he did not see the armored corpses sprawled out across the way. In his haste, he could not stop his forward momentum. He tripped over the legs of one of the bodies and crashed hard to his hands and knees. It took him a precious second to shake off the fall. Enough time for the twitchers to close the slim margin of breathing space he had. Ahead of him, a phalanx of the Necromorphs crouched, shoulder to shoulder, eyeballing him with their harsh electronic vision. Behind him, a few others were a moment away from his position. Surrounded, out numbered, and run down like prey, he was done for.

His audio clicked on. "The Marker wants you to know that it's winning." Nicole's voice was soft, but steady. "Show it, Isaac. It hasn't won _yet_. There is still hope. _You _are still alive."

Fuck it. She was right. He wasn't going down without a fight. At his elbow, almost as if they had been set there for him to find, were a pulse rifle and a satchel. Tucked in a few pockets lined in a neat row on the outside of the satchel were several grenades. All that fear, all that anxiety receded. He might survive this after all.

In the few spare seconds he had, he noticed where the dead R-Sec had decided to make their last stand. A grille had been half-jimmied open in the floor. His rabbit hole. Kneeling, Isaac ripped it from its bolts with a monstrous strength bred from adrenaline and stubbornness. He used kinesis to launch it into the onslaught of twitchers hard enough to stagger the front rank and used up his stasis on the ones nearest. He'd slowed them down, for a couple seconds, at least.

The shaft was dark and endless, but he'd rather take two broken legs over being torn asunder. Then he kicked the pulse rifle into the hole. His hands unclipped two of the grenades, thumbs hooked the pins and flicked. Twitchers were everywhere. Blue streaks and the thunderous roar and their large hulks pressed in on him from all sides, a whisper's margin between him and fatal, agonizing destruction. He tossed the grenades aside, tucked his elbows, and in one brave movement, hopped clear of solid flooring to plummet feet first into the shaft.

Free-falling downwards put Isaac's stomach somewhere in the vicinity of his throat and he had enough time to wonder if jumping into the shaft had really been a good idea. Too late. After a short descent, his feet came into contact with some sludgy material. His knees collapsed and he toppled to his side, the material jiggled and gave under his weight. It was too dark to see what he landed in. And then the grenades detonated. Both sound and force of the explosion pushed through him, heat and a low vibration he felt in his lungs and as suddenly as it started, it was finished.

Silence descended. Groping in the dark, Isaac found the light he'd clipped to his suit ages ago and clicked it on. The shaft had widened in circumference as he fell and to his repulsion, he'd landed feet-first into rampant corruption, which had plugged up the shaft with tissue. A stink filtered into his helmet, one that he'd gotten inherently used to, but the reminder of it brought the smell back in full force. To the side, the pulse rifle lay undamaged. He stood upright in the muck, flicking it off his hands, grimacing under the visor, and high-stepped over to the rifle. Under fifty rounds remained. Well, better than nothing.

"Ellie, can you read me?" He opened up a hololink, needing visual confirmation that she was alive. Safe. "Ellie?"

Static shot through the connection, but it linked to Ellie, who leaned forward. Her beautiful, earnest face eased his paranoia. "Isaac! You're okay! I've been waiting for your contact, thinking the worst."

"Are you safe?"

"Safe as I can be." She tilted her head. "Where are you? You don't seem to be on the dock floor."

"I jumped down a hole. Can you bring up schematics? I can't climb back up."

He watched as she swiveled in the chair and began typing. She said, "I felt an explosion from here. Did you have anything to do with that?"

"The place is infested with twitchers," he said. "I nearly got swarmed."

Over the hololink, her face crumpled under her emotions. "Isaac…I didn't see…I didn't know!"

Then he understood that she blamed herself for his situation. How could he adequately express that he bore her no ill-temper for something she had no control over?

"This was a stupid idea." Her self-loathing was evident, now. "I should've talked you out of it! I should've come with you! I should've…done _something!_"

Isaac felt her conflicted emotions like a weight bearing down on his own soul. He shook his head. "Stop. Regret has no place here. You can regret later, but not now. I need you, Ellie. I need your help. So can you help me?"

Her thin shoulders slumped and she seemed to gather her strength because when she looked up, her face was lined with hard determination. "Yes, of course. I have to bail you out of your messes, don't I?" A rhetorical question. "To your immediate right is another access hatch. You seem to be right on level with it, somehow. Think you can get to that?"

He stared at the corruption that stuck to his sec-suit. "I'll let you know."

Crossing the mucky corruption proved more difficult than he assumed. First, each step he took sunk him knee-deep in membrane that when he hauled his leg up and out, made an evil slurping noise that revolted him. Disgusted, he maneuvered his body to his right, but, of course, corruption had seeped up the walls of the shaft as well. Pressing his hands to the rotten flesh, he felt for the correct panel. After a minute of sinking his hands to the wrist in the foulness, his fingers touched the outline of a lever.

He was able to twist the handle, but he had to muscle the entire hatch open; the corruption was thin enough that the flesh tore, and sickeningly bled as he strained to pull the hatch. Along his back and shoulders, he felt the sinew bunch and contract under the exertion, but he didn't relent and for more leverage, braced his foot. His relentlessness paid off when, at last, the hatch broke free of the corruption and swung open. He did not like what he saw when he leaned to peer in.

Whatever the duct had been, it was now almost entirely a conduit of corruption. He signaled Ellie on the audio. "I'm looking inside the duct. Ellie, it's not pretty."

"It'll go on for a few meters before emptying out into an access hall. You can follow that access hall to a ladder that should lead you up to the docking bay floor. Looks like it'll be a straight shot to the workshop from there."

"Thanks. I'll check in once I'm there."

He closed out the link because he had to concentrate on not hurling at the thought of his next step. He didn't want to think about what he might find at the end of the duct, if it was sealed shut from corruption or if the weight of infected tissue would crush him, assimilate him…no.

Don't think like that. One step at a time. He set the pulse rifle in the duct first. Then robotically, he put out his hands and arms and slid them into the clogged hole. Heat radiated off the corruption, humid and saturating, and he was reminded of Xandra's blood seeping in through the synthetic fiber of his gloves. There was a beat…a pulse or a low throb that he felt surrounded by, nearly undetectable, but present. Was it the Marker's heart? He shook the thought- -a clot had formed in his throat- -and he ducked down his head to push it into the gunk. Be calm, he told his stomach when it soured, be calm.

Again, he detached himself and saw his actions from far back, watched as he shoved the pulse rifle ahead, dug his fingers into gelatinous tissue and drew himself half-meter by half-meter into the enclosed, moist artery. Juice flowed over his visor, a slick composition that he swore leaked into his sec-suit. His gorge rose. Keep going. Shove the pulse rifle ahead. Dig in your fingers. Concentrate on your aching back and shoulder muscles. Keep going. Even though his suit gave him oxygen, he felt so constricted, so claustrophobic that he wanted to scream. Thick, suffocating fumes blocking up his lungs, and there was no escape, no escape…

He found he was gasping for air, nearly retching and paralyzed. His brain simply wouldn't let him go forward. He was going to die.

The audio crackled; Ellie's voice cut through. "Isaac, I was thinking about when this is all over, we should go to Earth together. I mean, I've never been there before and I think it would be nice to go with someone who lived there. You could take me to your hometown, or…" and she continued on, her words unimportant, but her serene voice soothing and cadent.

Some of his strength returned. Listening to her tamed that horrendous crush of anxiety and he was able to continue to pull forward, wiggling through where the duct became narrower, and finally coming to the other side. Ellie continued to chatter without stop, a songbird that broke the void inside him. To his relief, the hatch had been stripped from the wall and he didn't care, he used a few shots from the pulse rifle to weaken the film that covered his escape. When he hauled out his body, covered in viscous fluid, he landed limply to the floor and panted, exhausted. As he caught his breath, Ellie had fallen silent.

"I'm there," he told her, his voice cracked. "I'm through."

She didn't respond. In his fatigued state, he didn't press her, and gathered his energy for the few precious minutes he had to do so. He'd come to a rounded area. What wasn't covered with skin tissue and similar growth was the normal metal panels and wires that spread like webs under the docking bay. The access tunnel wasn't too enclosed, but he saw from where he lay that spots were overgrown. Bright lights tracked down the hall. A mournful groaning drew his attention from somewhere down the tunnel. He'd get there soon enough.

Five minutes might've passed when he culled enough motivation to get back to his feet and hoist up the pulse rifle. Shoulders cracked when he rolled them, exhaustion a burden he would bear until this whole nightmare was through, and took his first steps into the access hall. Whatever groaned was near, but corruption obstructed his view any further than a few meters ahead. Then he came to a turn and witnessed a moment he would never forget.

A man sat on the floor, his legs spread out toward the middle of the hall. He wasn't old, thirtyish would be Isaac's guess, with medium hair and a cracked pair of glasses perched on a straight nose. Beside him on the wall, or rather, _in _the wall, was the torso of a woman. Her legs and back had been seamlessly absorbed into the invasive corruption. She had on her jumpsuit. Enough showed that Isaac could make out the company's logo across the chest. Blood ran in rivulets from open sores on her arms, dripped from her mouth, and her clouded eyes were fixed on some point beyond. Her black hair was loose, matted with gore, and it was from her throat that Isaac had heard the groan. That was the only semblance of life.

"Don't worry, Sally-baby," the man said. He had her pale, limp hand in his, pressed against his grey cheek. "You'll be fine as soon as help arrives. You'll be just fine. Hang in there."

Swallowing, Isaac stepped over the man's legs, not daring to disturb whatever thin hold on sanity the man clasped. But the man must've gained clarity because a second later, Isaac's wrist was grasped and tugged. Isaac twisted his arm, but the grip didn't relent; it was a vise. Awkwardly, he stopped and with a grimace, crouched beside the man. On the stitched-in nametag affixed over the breast-pocket was R. Tate in neat script. His job title had been Assistant Bay Manager. Isaac really wished he hadn't seen even those small pieces of information.

"Officer! Officer," Tate said in a voice surprisingly bass, "Sally is…sick. She's sick. And needs help. Can you? Can you…" He trailed off.

Isaac swallowed, setting aside the pulse rifle. He put his free hand on the Tate's, which continued to clutch Isaac's forearm with steel fingers. "I'll notify a medical team."

"It's our anniversary today, did you know? We've been married ten years." Tate's eyes darted from side to side, lost in the madness. His words were conversational, but drawn-out and low. "Sally wants a baby. More than anything. She said she wanted a baby more than anything. Do you think she'll be okay?"

"She'll be fine," Isaac lied. "I'll link to an EMT. They'll be able to fix her up good as new."

"Good as…" Tate licked his cracked lips. "Good as new?"

Then Tate was struck with hysterics. He flung his head back and manically laughed, laughed, laughed until tears streamed down his cheeks, until a horrible choke gurgled up from his throat. A spurt of blood burst from his nose. Isaac watched on, the hand on his wrist tightening, as Tate convulsed, eyes rolling backwards to show the white, and saliva mixing with the blood that gushed from his nose. Moments later, Tate's body slumped, motionless.

Gently, Isaac braced the head, lowering Tate to his side so that he rested at his wife's feet, had they still existed. And as Isaac thought it couldn't possibly get any worse, Tate's eyes snapped forward, as if he'd been a child who remembered one last, important task to do before bed. The grey eyes focused on Isaac, lucid, and Tate's face relaxed. Immediately, Isaac felt recognized, familiar, like he'd been an old friend come to visit.

The dying man drew a deep, gargled breath. "Thank you." And a moment later, death rattled from the drowned lungs of R. Tate. His hand that had gripped Isaac's wrist loosened and it fell to the floor with a quiet thud when Isaac removed his own hand. He wasn't sure how he felt about witnessing Mr. and Mrs. Tate's deaths. A sliver of a chill winged down his spine. The access hall felt confined, too much like a tomb, and he picked up his pace.

Several minutes later, he came to a long hall. On the far end, spotlighted, was a mounted ladder, which gave Isaac much relief to see. He started towards it, but the lights dimmed and brightened, then flickered again until they cut off. In the semi-dark, he toggled the flashlight mounted on the pulse rifle.

"Ellie," he said over audio, "what's going on with the lights?" Static crackled the link. He tried again. "Ellie? You copy?"

She didn't reply. Cold dread settled a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach as he fairly sprinted to the ladder and when he realized he couldn't take the pulse rifle with him, he dumped it to the side. Climbing the ladder was a matter of coordinating his stiff limbs into mechanical movements until he reached the top. The lever was no match for him when he yanked it and popped open the hatch. Immediately Isaac realized that he would have to return for the pulse rifle. As he peered into the field of utter darkness, he saw the blue comet-tails of reverse stasis and the haunting orange glow of spec-ops helmets.

Power to the docking bay had been cut, and as he lowered the lid to descend the ladder, he remembered that Ellie had connected her suit to the communication lines. Was it possible for her RIG to power down? Even as the question crossed his mind, he discarded it. RIGs ran on the electromagnetic energy generated by the human body. Her RIG would have power, but she had said the comms system needed a reboot and that would prevent her from using RIGlink until the reboot was finished.

His feeling of dread was a ten-ton lodestone, instead of a weight, as his paranoia brought him to a horrible conclusion. The fucking Marker. It had finally launched its attack, had waited until he was furthest away from Ellie. It had shut off the power because it knew Ellie would be vulnerable; more so since he was practically at the other side of the motherfucking moon. She had already shown some weakness under the Marker's potent signal and since he was away from her, it would be a forceful, direct attack.

Ellie was in grave danger. Because he'd been blind. Because he'd been _stupid _and _hasty_.

Isaac picked up the pulse rifle to cradle its familiar heft in his arms. Ellie was non-negotiable. He had to get back to Ellie and if he had to, he would bring the full fury of whatever weapons he could lay his hands on.

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**A/N:** As usual, the next chapter will be posted Mar. 16th. See you then! =)


	29. Sudden Death

**A/N**: We're back again, dear readers! When I wrote this chapter, I couldn't help but think of the first Dead Space story I read: Ouroboros. I hope you enjoy.

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**Chapter Twenty-nine: Sudden Death**

**- A tribute chapter to Leks Bronks -**

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Isaac was not sure how he managed it, but he juggled the pulse rifle at the same time he climbed up the ladder and cracked open the hatch to peer at the floor. Darkness spread out in every direction and it seemed thicker, more terrifying, for the simple fact that the docking bay was so enormous and the black was endless. And he knew what went bump in the night. He could hear the soft shuffling and quiet grunts of twitchers as they stirred, and occasionally an orange light would wink out at him or a flicker of blue. However, his immediate surroundings were clear of Necromorphs.

This was such a bad idea, he thought, opening the hatch noiselessly then hoisting his lower half up and out, but it was necessary. If the Marker had initiated an attack on Ellie, it would not relent until her walls cracked and crumbled. He had to get to her and take the brunt of its power against her. Whatever the cost, he would keep her living.

A large overturned crate was a meter or so to his left and he huddled next to it, the pulse rifle gripped and ready. Pitch black cloistered around him, but at least his visor gave him a cloud of visibility. The corner of his eye caught a bright glow, and unsettled, he swung the rifle up and around, his forefinger tightening on the trigger. It was a stasis refill station. With a sigh, he cautiously stepped across the floor, keeping as much to cover as he could, and activated the refill.

He searched the dark for a moment, but he was clear. His waypoint was a brilliant blue slip that shot off over the hatch and along a cleared aisle, more towards the deep blanket of lightlessness. Before coming up the ladder, he'd double checked the map on his RIG and his coordinates; he was very close to the repair station. Licking his lips, Isaac swallowed down his palpitating heart. There was nowhere else for him to go, only forward. One foot in front of the other, he moved like a wraith into the unknown. Glow from his visor gave him that limited visibility and he wondered if it helped pinpoint his position.

Where the upended crate ended was a huge wall of stacked containers. Overhead, each tower was clamped between a claw's spindly fingers, hanging from the ceiling on a track. With the power out, he could not use telekinesis to shift the containers. Shit. His map had not displayed this obstacle. Briefly he considered circumventing the containers, but he didn't know how far to the side they were stacked. He also did not know if going through the middle would save time, or if he'd have to backtrack.

After a moment, he decided to follow the stacks' perimeter because he could imagine some violent demise in a hidden dead-end somewhere inside that maze. He chose to go left, and keeping the sandwiched stacks on his right, he crept forward. Minutes crawled by as he kept a continuous lookout for twitchers. None showed a face, but Isaac knew they were close at hand. Had he made the right choice going around? It felt like it was taking him forever. Just as he decided that after this next two meters he would turn to go back, the stacks ended.

In the distance, something big and heavy crashed to the floor- -a precariously stacked container, maybe? Whatever it was, it startled him into motion. He slipped around the corner. The further he went, the more he felt as if he was on the verge of running out of luck. What was worse was that he was stuck between saving time or being caught by the twitchers. As much as he wanted to save Ellie, he should avoid letting footsteps signal twitchers to his position. Thankfully, the stacks had shorter width than length, and Isaac abruptly came to the end of it. A few lower crates had created a sort of alleyway for him to walk between.

He felt, more than saw, a wide-open area ahead and when he checked his waypoint, it glided forward, straight, with no turns. But then multiple flashes of blue erupted, like lines of fireworks, and he shuffled back to nestle out of sight. Dammit. Twitchers here. To make sure he was on track, he queued up his map and saw that he was smack at the doorstep for the repair shop. _Finally_.

Now he had to negotiate a path across. He doubted he could distract them like he'd done the last time, and besides with the power off, he might not even be able to get into the door. By the millimeter he peeked out to scan the far wall of the bay. The holographic locking mechanism was not visible. Even if he could make it across, how could he open the damn door without being sliced and diced?

"Please wait as main power is restored to all areas," a man's mechanical voice informed pleasantly on the loud speakers. "All areas will have restored power in sixty seconds."

This was followed closely with a repetitious SSSHUNK that resounded through the bay. Isaac glanced overhead and saw the lights blinking to life, one long row at a time. More lights blinked on, chasing off the dark, and when he craned his neck, the sign to the repair workshop was lit as well as the door panel. It was locked. Seven twitchers stood, hunched and large, on the cleared deck, enough to worry him but few enough to make him think he could take them out with some careful planning.

"I'm coming Ellie," he murmured. "Hang tight."

Silently, he searched his immediate area and found two slim metal rods that would come in handy. He could TK the rods into two of the twitchers, and use their blades on the others if he was lucky. While he hacked the door, he could use stasis and the pulse rifle to dismember two or three, maximum. From experience, pulse rifles were a weaker weapon than some others when it came to separating a limb from a torso.

Adrenaline pumped into his blood. He breathed a couple deep breaths, just to steady himself, before he TK'd the first rod into the nearest twitcher. It screeched as its body was flung away. By the time it was pinned into the wall near the repair shop's door, Isaac had repeated the favor on the second-nearest twitcher. He had the others' attention. To lessen the range for his TK, he sprinted nearer to the opposite wall, where the twitcher hung like some macabre sculpture. Five hulking, angry monsters roared at him, but Isaac had already stopped four in their tracks with stasis.

He was near enough that he could rip out a blade from one that was on the wall and send it into the most mobile one. Another furious bellow as a third twitcher flew backwards, the blade punching its entire body. The TK was powerful enough to nail it against the shipping containers that went up to the ceiling. That twitcher was too far for his TK to reach. His stasis held on the other four, three of which he dispatched with the three remaining blades.

Okay, he had to do this before the stasis wore off the last twitcher. He reapplied his last shot of stasis on the remaining twitcher and tromped to the terminal. It was then he noticed that the outside of the terminal had been shot to shit. A jagged hole the size of his fist opened the siding and telltale scorches marred the machinery. At first, he didn't know what to do because the shock hammered him a breath-stopping blow.

Long seconds ticked on as he stared in disbelief at the ruined terminal. From behind him at many points, he heard the rallying cry of more twitchers, the whole lot of them notified of his presence from the others. No matter how hard he wanted it, he could not will that terminal into functioning again. Whatever power had been endowed to him from the Marker deserted him. He was with his back against a wall and the entirety of the Necromorphic station zeroed in on both him and Ellie.

As he stood there, his mind a roaring blank, his RIG opened a holovid. A woman with her hair tucked under a cap glared at him. "What're you doing? You'll lead them right to us!"

The parasite must be damaged, a distant thought told him, but he could only blink behind his visor, unable to reply. Rapid clomping snapped his attention to his right. Automatically, he raised the pulse rifle and took out the twitcher's legs. It roared with inhuman vocals at him, and as he aimed, his eye exploded with pain. The migraine hit with such force that Isaac saw spots crawl across his vision and he sagged to his knees.

Where was it…where was it coming from? He didn't know. Couldn't think over it. Heat poured through him, a feverish hotness that broke out sweat under the sec-suit. His whole world spun, the floor wavering under him, and the walls swelling and contracting, beating with rhythmic pattern.

Whatever this pain was, he couldn't stop it and he screamed from the razor-sharp stabs into his brain. In front of him, the legless twitcher crawled towards him, the blades like the legs of a black widow on the floor. And then it was on him. Agony seared white-hot pain across his stomach, but was a vague undercurrent compared to his head. Yelling with the pain, crying from it, Isaac twisted, bringing up the rifle to block a descending scythe. He didn't see where the other blade was and his brain told him not to worry about it.

They were locked together. Face to face with him was twitcher's robotic features, its body overgrown with blackened tissue, a perfectly round orange eye rotated up and down. Tentacles squirmed, little worms wiggling in the dead flesh. It held its head at an unnatural angle with a toothy maw primed to chomp his tender flesh at his neck. Blood and fluid slavered out of its open mouth and dripped on his visor.

As he strained against the one blade, Isaac wedged his foot between their bodies and kicked. The twitcher staggered; it was enough for him to use the pulse rifle to devastating effect. But…something was very wrong. He could only get one arm up to use the gun. He felt…faint, breathless. Dizzy. His vision had taken on a smeared quality. Far away from his body, he saw a curved bone protruding out of his abdomen. Blood welled from the edges where the blade cut. Oh, he thought. Oh, I've been hit. That can't be good. He had time to think how large the blade was in comparison to a javelin before the humming of bees swarmed over his eyes and he fell, weightless, into nothing.

However long he was in the nothing, he stirred when he heard a familiar voice soft in his ear. Ellie, murmuring. Or…singing? His brain woke up a little more. "…star. How I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky. Twinkle…"

What…? Confusion concerned him for a moment before the throb in his eye took over. He hissed from the ache of it, and discovered his visor was disengaged when he pressed a palm over his bare eye. Ouch. Dammit. Then he sat up suddenly at his next thought. Twitchers. He'd been trying to get into the repair shop and he'd been attacked by twitchers. There'd been a…a bone stabbed in him. He'd passed out.

But when his hand dropped to his stomach, patting and feeling for damage, he could find none. The sec-suit was undamaged. Pain radiated from his eye, but from nowhere else. He was fine. Relieved, he sat for a moment in the quiet. His struggle with the twitcher and subsequent injury must've been a hallucination wrought by the Marker.

Somehow, he'd made it inside the repair shop and had been sprawled on the floor inside the doors. When he got to his feet, he noticed the repair shop was a medium sized chamber. Metal shelving units spanned the functional wall, and work islands in an open area were scattered with various tools and parts. A bench and a store sat up a few stairs in a tidy corner. Beside the store were a few lockers, opened.

"I could've sworn," he said out loud. His voice was weak, too small in the too-big emptiness. "How'd I…?"

The thought was interrupted when Ellie came up on a hololink. His surge of joy soured into dismay when he saw that her eye had been gouged out. "Isaac," she sang to him. Blood trickled from her empty socket to drip off her chin. He couldn't look away from it. "Isaac, I miss you. Are you coming?"

He'd been fucking right. The Marker had gotten at her. "Ellie, yes. I'll be there soon. Stay put. I'll fix this. I promise." But how could he promise her? Could he fix it? Everything had gotten so out of control and he had no…

"…way of knowing how to save her," a sinister whisper finished. "It's always been that way, hasn't it?"

"Shut up."

Ellie, still on hololink, giggled. It sounded hollow and it made Isaac sick. "Hurry, hurry, Isaac. Your mother's here. We're having a grand time, aren't we, Mrs. Clarke?" She glanced off screen. "I _know_. I'll tell him. Say, Isaac. I'm glad I could speak to your mother again." Her smile was too wide, too toothy, when she signed off.

"Shit. _Fuck_." The cursing helped him feel better, marginally. He rubbed his temples and got a grip on his panic. "Fuck."

First things first. He took a thorough tour of the repair shop, gathering items that impressed him as necessary and collecting them on the very center island area. Towards the back of the shop, he came across a helpful stasis recharge station. After rummaging around for a minute, he dug up a duffle bag that he tossed on top of the parts and things on the work counter. Then he went to the store and bought as many power nodes and pulse rounds as his credits allowed, plus stasis recharges.

He crossed to the work counter and after setting aside his armful of new purchases, he stood assessing his collection of items. Several industrial-grade plasma welders were present. These tools were used for sealing shut the metal crates and containment units protecting products. The design of it was similar to the plasma cutter, except more cylindrical, and instead of discharging shots, a small spark of plasma was used to fuse the metal together. After some tinkering, Isaac disabled the safety mechanism so that the beam intensified tenfold, and furthermore, he could create a sustained type of blade, a meter or so in length, with the plasma.

Also, he'd grabbed another tool that looked as though it was used to cut or dismantle crates, a sort of advanced letter opener for the metal crates. The machine part was conical, with a small point at the very end, and needed a power supply, which Isaac easily rewired to feed off his suit. This piece was clunky and he needed both hands to carry it. With a flick of his fingers, he was able to shoot a precise, red laser that sliced cleanly through metal.

He considered a moment whether to pack everything that would fit into the duffle, but decided speed was his best ally and unclipped the duffle's shoulder strap to fashion into one for the pulse rifle. The pulse rifle badly needed upgrades, so most of the power nodes went into expanding the damage and ammo capacity of the weapon. When he closed up the bench, he glanced around this last vestige of safety, expecting somewhat for a twitcher to drop from the ceiling, but when silence greeted him, he strode to the door.

His eye had settled at a low throb, an ache that he noticed, nothing that wracked him with agony. He already decided he was going to run and gun. Suicide, probably, but Ellie was falling further and further into dementia every second he wasted. That was not something he would allow. On his arm was the laser, clipped to his suit was a plasma welder, and hanging off a strap to his back was the pulse rifle. For a refresher, he checked his map and confirmed that he was directly across the bay from where he started. If the bay was clear of obstacles, he'd be able to run a straight line to the lift doors.

"Fee, fie, foe, fum," he said, before opening the door. "Here I come."

The second the sides pulled apart far enough to accommodate his shoulders, Isaac charged forward at a full-on sprint. Twitchers had conglomerated around the doors, waiting for him to stick out his neck. Ineffectually, they scissored their blades at him and when Isaac triggered the laser, it had an awesome effect. With a slight sweep of his right arm, he sliced off six or more twitcher legs in a single shot. Blackened bodies crumpled to the floor; he didn't stop to finish them off. The stacked containers were lit, so as he dodged down the familiar little alleyway, he TK'd the one on the corner.

Clattering, as the mountainous stack lurched into motion along the ceiling track, and Isaac slowed his sprint to a jog when no twitchers popped out at him from the sides, floor, or the stacks. Regardless, their noise rolled over him, part of what made them so terrible to face, but his harsh breathing blocked it from his ears. He managed to cover the distance to the access hatch, but as soon as he came to that intersection, twitchers, in their jerky, spasmodic movements, poured out of the hatch to gallop towards him.

"Holy shit!"

Once again, he used the laser, spurting past them as they (literally) lost their footing, clearing a path from him to eek through as the stamp of heavy feet rang in the air. The stacks opened up into the loading section of the bay area, enough so that Isaac could make out a part of the bay that was smoking and in flames. Containers had flown outwards, spilling their contents- -small metallic devices unknown to Isaac at first glance- -and the floor panels were smoking and burned. From behind him, a wave of roaring, howling, chased after him, so he dodged into the easiest pathway he could discern. The lift, and its safety, was a long distance for a desperate, old man.

In his peripheral, a black flicker. Without even registering it, he spun to the side, opening fire with the laser in a long sweep which carved the twitcher into two pieces. More twitchers trundled up in the cramped aisle, so Isaac shot forward to wind through the chaotic bay area. At one point, he came to a dead end. With the twitchers closing in on him, he ducked into a slim opening inside a crashed barge, having to crawl on hands and knees inside a wire-tangled compartment before bursting out the other side. Twitchers were everywhere, and he used the laser until he was too slow to dodge, and a blade connected with his forearm, destroying the cylinder that housed the proper wiring.

Without missing a beat, Isaac shed the laser, reached behind, and pulled free the pulse rifle until he could mount the lift and activate it. Once the lift screeched into motion, he leaned a hand against a rail to inhale and exhale in relief. The constant run had jolted his knees into stiffness, but the feeling of them was watery. He'd been scared.

"When the blazing sun is gone…when there's nothing he shines upon," Ellie sang through audiolink so quietly, so lowly, he had to strain to hear her, "then you show your little…AAAAAUGH!" A violent shriek of terror shredded his eardrums and heart.

"ELLIE!"

"_Isaac_! _Stay with me_!" Sobbing, gasping for air. "_Don't go_!"

"I'm coming, Ellie! Hang on!"

At that moment the lift stopped. There was no noise to indicate that anything was wrong; one second it rattled in its ascent, and the next, it quit. The lights, too, had quit, like someone had flicked a switch. Sharp pain sliced into his optical nerve, a knife's blade forced into that part of his head.

"You're not going anywhere, Isaac." That malevolent tone over his audio soured his stomach. In the distance a pulse of dim, white light, then a shimmer of silvery symbols in a familiar shape. "Ellie is mine, Isaac. _She's mine!_"

"_You can't have her!_" he yelled back.

Children's laughter answered him. Darkness cut to light; the lift was in motion, almost as though the Marker had hit the pause button on his life, messed with the lighting and audio, then set everything back again. Involuntarily, he shuddered when the thought that the Marker, at will, could manipulate his perceptions. How had it gotten so powerful? Sure his hallucinations and nightmares were exceptionally vivid, but somehow, this felt different. It was a difference that he couldn't explain.

"You won't be able to save her, just like you couldn't save the others," the Marker whispered. "You're too old. Too tired. Too-"

Upset, a cold twist ripe in his guts, Isaac disengaged his visor, cutting short the Marker's taunt. Inwardly, he toed a precipice that gaped out at his feet, something cold and endless that would swallow him, suffocate him. He would not escape what was down there because it would be defeat, it would be Ellie unsaved, it would be the Marker winning at a cost that he could not bear. He clenched his teeth so hard he heard a few creak before he relented.

Without the visor, his hearing was much more acute. Sound emitted from the PA system, faint, marred with crackles and pauses, but Isaac recognized the tune. Listening to it disturbed him more than he cared to admit. When the lift came to standstill, Isaac hesitated. He didn't recognize this corridor. It wasn't the deck he'd expected to find in Shipment Processing. Instead this corridor was dim, lights buzzed on and off, weakly, and some sections were shadowed in complete dark. Corruption had coagulated like plaque in an artery.

In a shimmer of red-orange, the walls of the place distorted. Pinpricks of light burned through the film and gasping under a sharpened, physical haze, Isaac watched as twin rows of limbs grew from the sagging flesh as far as he could see down the corridor, both sides. The limbs had hands and fingers splayed and thrashing, clawing for release, and the flesh flexed, molded to glob-like shoulders and heads and legs. Skin shaped over muscles and bones, formed into features, and in chilling certainty, he knew that these new-formed bodies would be people he would recognize, maybe even people he loved.

"Nicole," he said. He dared not get close to the contorting bodies- -they were connected to the wall still, but the fleshy blobs of their faces were stretching, molding. "Nicole, what's going on?"

Usually reliable for answers, she didn't appear to him. Panic swelled; his chest felt constricted. As the bodies spasmed, writhed, he shied away. He backed into the lift, and thinking to avoid the corridor, reached out to activate it. But the lift had no power. He had nowhere to go.

"You can't run away this time, Isaac," the Marker announced, static crackles breaking the murmured words. "There is no escape. Nicole knows it. That's why she's deserted you."

The bodies from the wall had finished forming, had detached to take new, uncertain steps forward, and just as he suspected, they were the faces of people he'd known. Streaming dark hair and a stern jaw showed his mother. The bald pate of Tiedemann. Up-done white hair indicated Millicient, and beside her, with a fall of reddish-brown was her daughter, Kendra. Greggs' friendly features and eyes; behind him, Isaac recognized the gruff, stubbly face of Foster Edgars. In the crowd was Hammond, solemn, and Kyne's earnest, rounded face, as well. Faces that he'd met in passing and hadn't thought of since.

"What do you know," he said, out loud. "The gang's all here."

"Y-yes, Isaac," replied a man on his left. Surprised, Isaac turned and came face to face with long-nosed Stross, who had hunched like Quasimodo, unseen, in the corner of the lift. "Everyone's all here. The Marker made them for you, Isaac. Just f-for you."

Isaac grimaced. "Not everyone I'd like to see."

"Come on," Stross said, grabbing hold of Isaac's arm, "she's waiting. She's always waiting."

"Who is?" Isaac pulled away from Stross' hand, but being confined in the lift, he had precious little room to withdraw to. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

Stross didn't answer. With a strength that outmatched Isaac's resistance, Stross tore the pulse rifle from his hands and shoved him out of the lift. Isaac stumbled forward, wheeling his arms, expecting to be torn apart. The others that had gathered reached out. Here it was, he thought, his end, but hands from every direction grasped his sec-suit, wrists, shoulders, his elbows, biceps, and the bodies, material and solid, pressed in on him so that he was forced to move in any direction the collection of them wanted. He didn't like how easily they maneuvered him along the corruption-choked corridor, even as he dug in his heels and struggled.

"Nicole!" At this point, he was desperate for her voice. Her presence. She didn't answer. "Ellie? _Ellie!_"

Some sort of whine ripped the airwaves; Isaac flinched from it, his eardrums ringing with the frequency. Inside his head, he could feel a presence take shape, but it was nothing like the Marker. It was not cold or menacing. A hint of lavender-vanilla wafted through the air. Ellie was somewhere near. Or was she? He couldn't tell. His eye throbbed, sore and angry and persistent. He lost the connection to whatever was in his mind. Crap. He didn't understand any of this. When had the rules changed?

With growing certainty, he became sure that what he experienced was not a hallucination. Instead, he was in a horrific mimicry of real life. Reality as played by alien technology. This confrontation was much different than any in his prior experience. The whole of it felt anticlimactic; a short, clean-cut end to a long battle. Around him, the faces were expressionless. They were quiet, their footsteps slogging on through the diseased tissue, the rustle of cloth and the light clanking of armor were the only sounds in the corridor.

Up ahead, an opening was bathed in fluorescent light which the entire crowd hustled him into. The space expanded considerably since before him, tall and proud, was the Grey Marker in its stadium. Vaguely, a sense of disquiet trickled in as at the foot of the pale Marker was Ellie, seated in a reclined chair. Standing over her was Mercer, looking as sallow as usual. Isaac's bad feelings rose to a queasy crescendo. Helpless at the hands of these minions, Isaac stared at Mercer, who lovingly caressed Ellie's cheek.

"Such a pretty thing," he said with that eastern-European accent, "to be caught in the mechanisms of the greater cause. She will make a fine specimen for-"

"You're fucking insane!" Isaac interrupted. He bucked his shoulders, wrenched his arms, but the hold on him was firm. He was powerless. "_Keep your hands off her!_"

Mercer chuckled and pointed his short beard in Isaac's direction. "Lock him down."

This was not something he expected, but he understood the method. Between the lot of them, he was forced into a similar chair to Ellie's, except his had shackles for his wrists and ankles. Ineffectually, he tugged and strained, anything he could think of to get free, but metal was fucking metal and would not budge. Directly across from him were Ellie, her face composed, her hair loose around her face, and Mercer. He'd been given a front row seat to Ellie's conversion.

"Last time we saw each other, I had been transformed into a greater creature than you could ever imagine," Mercer said. On top of some various boxes was a toolkit. Mercer reached into this and picked up a syringe. "It was glorious, Isaac. I was finally free, finally at peace. But the holy Marker called me back to duty, back to the realm of the living to show you the correct path." Mercer had also picked up a palm-sized vial that he stuck the syringe into.

"No. No, you…you can't," Isaac whispered. His head throbbed with pulsating agony. "Don't touch her!"

This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be…

"But I must. The Marker needs living tissue, something complex and organic, to survive. It needs a host to help replicate the signals. It wants us to evolve into its magnificent creatures. Ellie is the perfect candidate," Mercer continued. He drew out the plunger to fill the syringe with colorless fluid. "Your mind was very pure, but has been…tainted. Your idealism is not conducive to the Marker's signal. In fact, you neutralize the so-called dementia. The Marker has not been able to understand how you can do this. However, with experimentation…well," he glanced aside at Isaac with a dark gleam in his eyes, "anything is possible."

"Don't…don't…"

Mercer swabbed Ellie's forehead and lowered the syringe so that the needle hovered over the unbroken caramel skin. Ellie's eye was fixated on a point at the ceiling, and even though he dreaded what would happen, he could not chicken out into glancing away. Then something made Mercer hesitate. Tension had stiffened his arm in preparation for injecting Ellie with…whatever that fluid was…but he drew his shoulders back.

"Hm, I do not understand…" Mercer said to no one in particular. "Very well. As you wish."

To Isaac's relief, Mercer dropped his hand from Ellie's forehead. Ellie sat up as if from a trance, accepted Mercer's hand in standing and took the syringe from him. Her remaining eye fell on Isaac, but it was not Ellie who looked at him. She approached Isaac with a vacant, cold expression and drew up to his side.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, I'm sorry about ending the chapter there. Furthermore, I've contracted bronchitis which has caused me too much trouble than being sick is worth. I won't be posting next Saturday, in an attempt to rest. The next chapter will be ready 3/30/13. I hate doing that to you all and I hope I see you then. =)


	30. Vitality

**A/N: **Welcome back, everybody! Thank you so much for your well-wishes and patience as I gained back my health this last week. I've got good news: I'm on break for a week. I'll be working extra hard to hopefully finish this novel so that there will be no delays in posting. Anyway, please enjoy.

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**Chapter Thirty: Vitality**

* * *

His relief was short-lived when Ellie stood over him. Light was good enough that he could see her eye, the original one that should've been green-brown, the color of a quiet pond that he'd walked past everyday as a child, but it was a dim, demonic red. He'd known the Marker had her, but his shock stemmed from not believing it, from holding out hope that he'd been wrong. Her eye confirmed his worse fear. She had been taken by the Marker. Her hair curled around her jaw, waving to her shoulders, and he noticed for the first time that she wasn't wearing the red and black sec-suit, but wore causal clothing- -a pair of tan trousers, and a white undershirt paired with a dark blue jacket.

She touched the side of his face, lightly, with gentle fingers. "Isaac. Don't you want to be free? Don't you want to be above your pain and guilt?"

He felt pain, all right, and it was the burdensome, jagged rock that rolled inside his chest, it was the toothed creature that gnawed on his eye nerves, it was the forgotten broken ribs, arm, and those other bumps and bruises that he'd sustained and lived through. The Marker had gotten to Ellie; it had its victory over him. How could he save anyone if he couldn't save Ellie? He hadn't saved her. He hadn't.

Her hand stroked his short hair, but her gaze was detached. "It can be over with and done. No more fighting. No more struggling. You can be with Nicole forever. I know that you don't love me like you loved her," she said. "She will always be the woman you loved best. I want you to be happy with her. Don't you want to be happy?"

Yes. Yes, he desperately wanted to be happy. To know a life without the fear that everyone around him would be brutally murdered and transformed into unreal monsters that wiped out life. He wanted to go back to Earth and set his bare feet on the grass, listen to the trees rustle in the wind, to see the clouds and blue sky and know that it was _real_, not some holographic image projected in front of him. He wanted Ellie to live her life unburdened from all this shit.

And a thin ray of light broke through his clouded heart, a niggling idea. Nicole was in the past. Ellie was…Ellie was the future. Why would she say this to him? Didn't she know that everything he did was to protect her? To benefit her? To _love _her? Whatever had entered in his dark heart, swelled, expanded, and the hugeness of it dwarfed his anxiety and terror.

"Isaac!" He heard the voice, directly inside his ear, or…in his head, distant, weak, and again, he felt a presence take shape inside his mind. "Isaac, wake up. Please, please wake up."

Confused, he glanced to the side. The crowd that had herded him to this place had surrounded the chair, leaving a thin bubble of space between their bodies and Isaac. Like Ellie's, their eyes were dimly glowing with red and they looked on without expression. There was Santiago, Kobi, and then Chen and Johnston, who he remembered from the _Kellion_. Wren, looking beautiful, haughty, and unmarred. Thick tension, heavy anticipation, weighed the air.

"I know you fear being transformed," continued Ellie. She held up the syringe. "The virus inside this syringe has mutated to the point where you will not be transformed. You won't become a Necromorph like you've been fighting for the last years of your life. But it will give you transcendence. It will give you release."

"Is…is that what you've done?" he asked, stalling. Something was not right. Sandpaper had lined his throat, his tongue scraping against the dryness. He honed in on the presence because he wanted to hear the plea once more and be ready to understand it. But a good majority of him craved a connection with Ellie, and if he had to let the Marker take him over to have that, so be it. Surrender to her would be so sweet.

Ellie laughed. "I wanted to free you first. I wanted to be the one to give you to Nicole."

"Please, Isaac. You have to fight. Please _wake up_." He heard the voice, and strangely, it was Ellie's voice that had gained power inside his head. How could that be when she was standing right beside him? "I'm so sorry. I have to do this. I have to."

And without warning, a surge of intense pain overtook him, enough so that the world closed on him. One after another his muscles contracted, tight. Nothing could stop it from spreading. The excruciating wave was his sole focus, his sole thought, and it was everywhere in his universe. He was unable to hold back the scream that tore from his throat. After an eternity suspended in the agony, it released him. His heart wouldn't slow down in his chest and he panted as sweat trickled over his face. The tide receded to a point below his ribs to the side where it resided like a lethal animal curled in its hole.

He opened his eyes, but he wasn't surrounded by the people he'd known. Instead, a blurry, vague Ellie leaned over him. A harsh light slanted over his world, red and orange, paired with another burst of agony in his eye, and he was bucked back to the Marker's domain. Mercer had come to his side and his and Ellie's expressions had changed from detachment to concern.

"What was that?" Isaac asked. He felt torn between two places. Which was the hallucination and which was reality? "I just had…"

"A hallucination," Ellie interrupted smoothly. She caressed the side of his face, but her touch was papery, a whisper compared to before. "You're very confused. You have been for a long time."

Mercer leaned in towards Ellie. "You must do it now," he murmured in her ear. "The Marker desires it."

Ellie nodded. She held aloft the syringe. "It's time, Isaac. It's time for you to go to Nicole and spend eternity with her. She misses you so much. She always loved you." Then she brought the needle to his forehead. Her eye was that evil, red ember and he hesitated, unsure whether he should let her inject him or if he should try to escape. With his hands and legs shackled, he wasn't sure he could if he wanted to. Her words had coaxed him.

"You have to fight it! Isaac, you have to fight. _Fight_!" Ellie cried out to him, no longer in his head, but echoing over the loudspeakers, strong and determined. "Come _back_!"

Once more he looked out over the crowd, saw Kirilee in Xandra's arms, Maheer standing at Alice's side, Will with them, and everyone shifted uncomfortably, tossing their heads around to see where the voice had boomed from. But their forms were lost when another fist of pain simultaneously crushed him and ripped him open to splay each nerve ending to a vigorous clawing. In the middle of the hurricane that was pure torment, he arched his back off the chair, but whatever tore through him would not relent. He flew away from the foot of the Marker and was blasted into another place entirely. The Marker screamed with a fury, which for a brief second, overshadowed the excruciating pain, before blipping out of existence.

He awoke, his hands scratching anything solid for something to grip, breathless from the indiscriminate saws chewing him from the waist up. "CHRIST, STOP IT!"

And the brutal attack on his pain sensors ceased. Again, the agony receded to a low, angry throb at his stomach, and he gasped for air until he calmed enough to register his surroundings. He'd been laid on a table. Three faces he didn't recognize stared at him, and one he did was drawn and beautiful and irritated. Ellie's hand went into his, fiercely gripped it, and she leaned over to kiss him. Dizzy, he breathed of the lavender-vanilla.

"Sorry, but it was the only thing I could think of," she told him. She tilted her head to rest her cheek on his. "I couldn't let the Marker have you."

It hurt to swallow, to speak. "I…_what_?"

She drew back, released his hand, and tore open some analgesic from a white pack. "A twitcher nearly had your guts for garters. I came down as soon as I could, but you were…like in a trance or something. I felt that…" She trailed off as she squeezed the numbing gel into a new hole in his stomach that Isaac didn't fully remember receiving. Her glove was slick and red.

"You felt what?"

A sigh. Her pigtails trailed over her shoulders, so she brushed them aside. "I felt like the Marker had gotten at you, somehow. Okay," she said, business-like, "I'm stitching you up. I'm not a professional, but even though your wound is really deep, I don't think any of your organs were hit."

He gazed at his torn sec-suit. The twitcher's blade had penetrated it, but the suit had prevented it from skewering him. In their struggle, a laceration had been ripped in his flesh. A weakness descended on him and he rested his head back. "I should probably be dead."

"Shut up," she snapped. "Don't say that. And you would have been had it not been for these three."

As Ellie fiddled with the medical equipment, Isaac considered the new people to prevent himself from thinking of the acute throb. One was a small man, built very slight, with Asiatic eyes, tawny skin, and a broad nose. His eyes glittered and shifted enough for Isaac to assume that dementia had taken hold in his mind. Another man leaned on the nearby wall. He was black, though lighter than Leo's rich coffee skin, with stubble spread across cheeks and chin, and hair that puffed out, and as average sized as he was, he dwarfed the woman sitting next to him, who was fine-boned, wearing a cap that barely contained reddish curls. They wore blue overalls that prominently displayed the manufacturing company's logo.

"They were the ones who dragged you in out of the bay," Ellie elaborated, squinting at some tool in her hands. "She's Sher, the middle one's Cookie, and Zao."

After the introduction, Cookie approached the table. Isaac watched, unsure of these people even if Ellie seemed to trust them, but the man rested his hands on the table's flat edge, and gazed back at Isaac with searching eyes. "You took quite a hit, my friend." His voice was a smooth tenor, tranquil and measured. "Sher and I weren't sure you'd last long."

"Thanks for the help," Isaac said. He licked his dry lips. "Cookie?"

"Heh, heh, heh," the other chuckled. "The name's Beauford Cooke. With an 'e'."

Isaac smirked. "I get it. So, Cooke with an 'e', what's your story?"

"Well," Cookie sighed as he rubbed his hand on his chin, "we were working our shift. Your transmission came through loud and clear…and then…it all fell apart. I can't tell you exactly what happened. Thinking on it, it's blurry, like it happened to someone else. One minute, we're watching you on the vidscreens, the next, noise like you've never heard and panic…chaos. There were bodies…blood…_fear_." He paused before continuing in a ponderous tone.

"We had a few squads of R-Sec answer our emergency signals, since we're close to gov-sec, but no matter how many soldiers showed up, no matter what gear they carried, those monsters always cut them down. Then the soldiers _became_ the monsters." Gravely, Cookie shook his head, his brown eyes glazed with sorrow. "Zao, Sher, and I are what's left of Merchant's Quarter Shipping Company, Shift 2."

"That's terrible," answered Isaac. "I'd hoped more of you had escaped the station."

"You're a terrorist. What difference does it make to you?" The cold question came from Sher, who'd stirred from her position. She sneered, green eyes narrowed, at Isaac when he glanced over. "We should've left you out there to die. It's what scum like you deserves."

At this, Cookie's placid demeanor hardened. "Sher, a terrorist _does not _warn the people he plans on terrorizing!"

"It's okay," Isaac said to prevent the inevitable argument he felt brewing. "I'm used to being on everyone's shit list."

"Damn right you're on my shit list," Sher spat. Her fury burned hot. "I should be at home, checking on my kids, going back to bed with my husband, but instead I'm stuck here in this hellhole with a criminal that should've been executed for his crimes. I should've pulled the trigger when I had the chance!"

After her outburst, she knocked a smattering of tools to the floor. They crashed and clanged around in a mangled mess, and in a huff, she hopped off her perch to stalk to the back of the repair shop. Cookie followed her movements with his eyes, but did not reprimand her and to Isaac's surprise, neither did Ellie, who seemed to concentrate extra hard on fiddling with his wound. An awkward silence spread out between the survivors.

Cookie looked back to Isaac and frowned. "Please excuse her. She's-"

"No need to apologize," said Isaac. "I know."

They shared a look of agreement before Ellie asked Cookie to help her with some bandages to wrap around Isaac's stomach. She had managed to stitch together the hole and seal it with an antibiotic gel. His pain was minimal, so he could at least sit up. The bandages were a precaution that he didn't think he needed, but he knew it'd make Ellie feel better. As they worked on wrapping him up, Isaac kept his eye on Zao, who muttered a consistent, incoherent conversation.

"How long has Zao been acting like that?" he asked.

Cookie looked up from the bandages. "That crazy whispering's been going on for a few hours now. You know, before this, a lot of people got constant headaches, saying they couldn't sleep, that they were hallucinating. Others just went plum crazy. The news said it was a flu-virus going around. Heh. They told everyone to stay in bed and drink fluids."

"Bed rest and water doesn't help dementia," Ellie said, subdued. "The Marker sends out a signal that produces what most people hear as noise and what others hear as…something else. It drives them mad."

"How is that possible?"

Ellie and Isaac hesitated, glancing at each other, before Isaac said, "The Marker is alien."

A moment, there, before Cookie threw back his head and roared in laughter. He laughed so hard, he had to steady himself with a hand on the table and a minute later, tears streamed down his face. Stunned that he found it so hilarious, Isaac and Ellie stared at him, uncomprehending, speechless. Enough time passed that as Cookie laughed, Isaac limped off the table, wincing, supported with Ellie's firm strength and stood, half-leaning on the table. Isaac was disappointed that such a steady man did not adequately feel the gravity of the situation.

"You mean to tell me," Cookie gasped out, between hoots, "that a piece of worshipped rock is a _life form_? Lord, oh, Lord." He chuckled a few more times and he seemed to realize that Isaac and Ellie did not find amusement in the idea. "You're serious. You really think a rock had anything to do with these monsters?"

"We do."

"Shit," said Sher, from the back. The space they occupied was much larger than Isaac had thought, and to the side, was another door that seemed to lead to a barge repair area. It was by this door that Sher stood and gestured for silence. "I hear something!"

In the two seconds that her words met their ears, the atmosphere crackled with intensity as everyone sobered, except for Zao. They tilted their ears up and overhead a scratching, small, not very big, but disturbing nonetheless. After a moment, the soft sound stopped. Everyone dared not breathe. A good two minutes passed before Isaac broke the heavy silence.

"How do we get out of here?"

Ellie nodded her head to the side. "Through the front door. When I realized you were in trouble, I took the chance and vented the docking bay. All those nasty Necromorphs are floating in space, now. And after rebooting the system, that lift we saw unlocked. I came straight down."

He looked at her, hard. She shrugged, understanding his implied reprimand. "I had to do _something_, even if it was a bad idea."

Isaac decided to let it pass. "Did you get into contact with the Marker team?"

"Yes. They've managed to get their way free, but there's another problem." Ellie's mouth thinned as she helped him hobble to the door. "The entire area for the Marker is completely sealed off with corruption. They did a scan…whatever that's growing in there has taken roots in the caverns under gov-sec."

"Dammit."

"Yeah," she said. "I didn't like being there the first time around, but if we want to get at the Marker, we have to do something about that growth."

"Right." He pressed a hand on to his sore side. "Have they taken up a position somewhere?"

Ellie nodded. "Apparently a control station is used for Rhea's water systems a few levels beneath gov-sec. They're holed up there."

"Let's go then. We don't have much time."

"Wait," interrupted Cookie. "What about us?"

Isaac looked over at him. "Your best bet is to get one of those barges operational and take that off this moon."

Sher snorted and crossed her arms. She'd stepped to Cookie's side during the conversation. "Nuh-uh. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you. You expect us to let you wander around unmonitored while we try to repair a barge?" She turned to face Cookie. "We can't trust him. Once we've fixed the barge, he'll kill us and take it for himself and his little girlfriend there."

Isaac had had enough of her. "Look, you can distrust me as much as you want, but it's reality that you need our help. We'll find a barge and do what's necessary to get you out of here."

"Cookie!" Sher's plea for support fell on deaf ears.

"Clarke's right," Cookie said. "We do need his help, whether we trust him or not. It's a risk we'll have to take."

"Ellie and I will help you and cover your backs." Isaac pushed off the wall, but flinched when a shooting pain erupted in his side. "Arm yourselves with whatever tools you can find."

During the next few minutes as Cookie and Sher pawed through the left-behind materials, Ellie stood with Isaac. She had handed him the pulse rifle, and for herself, she'd picked up a seeker rifle sometime along the way. While they waited, he had Ellie confirm what he'd suspected…that the parasite was missing. They decided their best bet would be to hide his RIG signal, so Ellie attached hers to his suit. When she assessed him with a serious look, brows furrowed, it was obvious she had something on her mind.

"What's wrong?" Playfully, he tugged a pigtail. "You've got a frown."

She batted away his hand. "You have to save your energy. You're too weak to be…gadding about playing the hero."

He spared a moment to graze her exquisite cheekbone with his finger. True, he felt his age, but his duty had not been completed. No matter the abuse he suffered, he owed those who died, who had sacrificed their lives. "I don't consider saving innocent lives 'gadding about'. They deserve as much help as we can offer them."

She sighed. "I hate it when you say things like that. You make me feel like such a grump." Then she opened the door and checked their immediate surroundings when Sher and Cookie were ready.

The four of them explored, tiptoeing and keeping their voices lowered, since they did not know what had taken the place of the twitchers in the meanwhile. What had not been sucked into space was in disarray. Unsecured crates had strewn their contents across the floor. Various items and objects coated the entire bay in an uneven layer, the orderly neatness synonymous with a shipping company devastated. Kinesis assisted them in clearing a pathway. Not after too long, they came to a barge that was upright and seemed in good shape. Sher settled into the cabin, giving Isaac a mistrustful glare as he and the others stood guard and after a moment, the barge's lights flicked on. Various bleeps and chimes erupted in the stillness.

"Well," said Sher, sticking her head out of the open compartment, "it's functional, but the nav-card's fried and these wires are a melted mess. See if you can't salvage a nav-card. Your best bet would be to look in the repair shop."

Cookie came forward. "I'll get a start on the wiring, then."

With the two of them in the cabin, Isaac remained outside the barge, keeping an eye out, as Ellie went back into the repair shop to search for the required nav-card. She'd been gone maybe ten minutes when he realized that Zao was missing. He'd been at Isaac's side the entire time, but must've…sidled off. Isaac's heart palpitated as he walked around the barge, hoping to find the man, but he was nowhere to be found.

Isaac approached the cab and called in. "Sher? Cookie? Have you guys seen Zao?"

"No," they both replied.

"I'm going to check on Ellie, then," he said. "Once we've found the nav-card, we'll search for Zao. He should be around here somewhere."

Cookie nodded and grunted from his position under the dash, but Sher glared at him, her face splashed with colorful holographs. "I'll go with you. I want you where I can see you."

Isaac gestured for her to lead on and chuckled when she shook her head stubbornly. Fine, then. He would lead. Sher would hopefully suppress the impulse to shoot him in the back. The trip to the repair shop was painful and halting for him; Ellie had been right about his needing rest, but he couldn't think about what hurt and he couldn't stop. They were so close to finishing this that for him to take a break would slow any momentum he had left. Sher was his shadow behind him, holding him in contempt with a chilled silence, and if she was impatient with his pace, she did not show it.

In the second section of the shop, several other barges were in kinesis tethers for repair work, their bare guts open and in varying states of disrepair. They were useless except for spare parts. The first one's hatch had been popped, and when he glanced inside, calling Ellie's name, he saw that the control panel was slid back, with the slot empty for the nav-card.

Sher had ducked inside with him. "Looks like she got the card. But where is she?"

"I don't know. We didn't pass her on our way over."

"Maybe she's looking around," Sher said. She fingered her rivet gun. Then she seemed to come to a conclusion; she abruptly pointed the barrel at him. He winced away. "You planned this, didn't you? You wanted to separate us to pick us off one by one! _Didn't you?!_"

"Calm down," he said, keeping his hands loose to his sides. "You _chose _to come with me. I didn't encourage you or draw you in. And if I wanted to kill you, why would I have waited this long? Why go through the charade of getting the nav-card?" He nodded to the dashboard. "Once that door closed to the shop, you wouldn't be able to hear a peep. Why didn't I strike then? Or Ellie, if she's overpowered Zao." He lowered his voice. "You're not a murderer, and I'm not going to kill any of you."

"She's probably attacked Cookie right now, leaving me to you!"

"Then contact him."

Her eyes narrowed, hands clenching the rivet gun. The hard glint in her eyes told him she would kill him if it meant her survival. That was nothing new to him. On the same hand, he also understood that she was a normal, law-abiding person, who wasn't a hardened killer but who was a loving wife and a caring mother. Regardless, he couldn't help wondering if her hate for him, inflamed by the Marker, would egg her on to attempt to murder him.

"Fine." She activated the comm attached to her wrist. "Cookie, do you copy?"

He responded immediately. "Loud'n'clear, Sher. Have you found Ellie and Zao yet?"

"They're not with you?"

"No, sirree. I'm almost finished with the rewiring, if you want to fire her up once."

"We'll be there soon, Cookie." She signed off.

They stood in that long, tense moment until Sher dropped her aim, and wearily, she sagged against the interior of the barge. She seemed to deflate. Her presence shrank from a gigantic, take-no-shit attitude to the fierceness of a gnat.

Her face crinkled. "I'm sorry. I'm so ashamed," she said. Her voice broke as she lifted a shaky hand to cover her eyes. "I don't know…what's happening. I keep telling myself I should hate you for what you've done…the people you've destroyed…but I feel like I know you." She sucked in air and wiped the tears free from her blotchy cheeks. "I feel like…you're telling me the truth. But how could you be? EarthGov is our government. Why would they lie? Why would…" She trailed off on the thought. "I don't know what to believe. I just want to see my husband and kids."

"Sher, you'll get through this," he told her. "You'll see your family again."

"Swear it," she whispered, putting her hand on his arm. The change in her demeanor was startling. Her conviction shone through the tears. "Please, swear it to me."

He did not want to. He did not know if he could fulfill his promise; he didn't even know if he could keep Ellie alive this time. But she needed faith and strength from him, and as Nicole constantly told him, he was the one who could bear it. "I swear."

Sher nodded, swallowed, and released his arm. "Thank you." Her head tilted. "Say, is that Ellie's rifle?"

Ellie's seeker rifle was propped to the side of the pilot's seat. Fear soared inside him. She wouldn't have forgotten it. Isaac squatted, his wound complaining, and clicked on the attached light on his shoulder. The light brightened the darkness under the dashboard. A splatter of dark drew his attention, and when he touched it with a fingertip, it smeared a dark red on the white paneling.

"Dear God," said Sher. "Is that…?"

"Blood." His throat was too tight for the word.

Immediately, he activated an audiolink. "Ellie? Ellie, do you copy? Ellie?" Nothing. He tried hololink and received static distortion. "Cookie! We can't find Ellie or Zao." No answer. "Hello? Cookie? Ellie?"

Sher tried them both and received the same radio silence as he did. They shared a wild-eyed look. "What's happening?" she asked.

"Ah. Well," His brain jumped to a million different conclusions, each more outlandish and macabre than the next, but the calm part at the back of his head reasoned out two probable explanations. "Two possibilities. One, Zao flipped out. He'd have enough time to trail Ellie here and attacked her, then attack Cookie. That would explain why they aren't answering our hails."

She paused, slightly, waiting for his second, dreadful hunch. "You said two."

"Yes." He didn't want to speak of the second conclusion. "Two, a sneaky Necromorph, or several, killed them and we're next."

Sher nodded. "Hm. You'd think there'd be more blood if it was a Necromorph. Why don't we search the rest of the repair shop? Then we can go figure out what happened to Cookie."

He grabbed the seeker rifle and slung it across his back, since it had a strap, and with Sher, toured the rest of the repair shop facility to make sure every corner, every barge, had been searched. As a precaution, they liberated another nav-card to take to the barge, just in case. He had a sense of déjà vu as he continued his search to the primary workshop. Ten minutes later, no further clues revealed themselves to him, so he and Sher returned to the barge where Cookie had last been seen. He was not present, but an audio log had been left on the seat.

"Cookie, here. I heard some movement across the way, Dock 5, so I'm investigating. I finished the wiring. Zao and Ellie haven't shown up yet in case you're wondering. Cookie, out."

"What do you make of that?" Sher scanned the bay. "That's Dock 5, over there."

Isaac had a bad feeling. "I don't like this at all. Put in the nav-card and let's check out Dock 5."

Sher took a brief second to slot in the nav-card, which set the control panel to neutral colors, and together, they started over to the dock, skirting several piles of welded barriers. Much of the maze Isaac had to weave through earlier was collapsed or ripped free from the floor when Ellie had vented the entire area free of Necromorphs. When they came to Dock 5, they both stood back, unwilling to completely believe what was in front of them.

At some point, the ceiling of the bay had caved-in, sheet metal crinkled and torn, and tons of rock weighing on that which had opened a yawning sinkhole in the middle of the floor. By some freak application of physics, steel beams had been freed of their constraints and showered downwards into the decking, leaving tangle of beams that spread out like tines in a wheel inside the hole. Piled up and shifting in a dangerous layer over all that was heavy debris. The beams creaked, moaning from strain, but an area of about five feet was clear between the side of the collapsed floor and the sheet that was the beams held. Something shifted, a brief rumble, and a section of the detritus collapsed, falling away into darkness.

As they peered at it, Isaac could make out a line of faint yellowish glow in the hole, stuck between a Y junction of two beams. "I see him," he said and pointed. As a thought, he tried picking up Cookie's form with kinesis, but the man was too far in for the energy to grab hold of him. "Shit."

"We have to go in and pull him out," Sher said. It was painfully obvious what her idea was. "I won't leave him."

"This whole thing's ready to collapse. We can try to TK some of-"

A particularly loud groan interrupted him as the metal strained. Sher bit her lip. "We don't have time for that to make any difference."

"I'll do it. I'll be able to pull him out," he told her, but already, she shook her head.

"No. I'll go. I'm shorter and more agile. In the barges are crew kinesis tethers. One of them should be enough. Go get it," she told him. "I think there's an emergency stasis module around here."

He complied, hustling as fast as his wound would allow him to the nearest barge. It was wrecked and smashed against the side of the docking bay, but it was open. After a slap-dash search, he found the kinesis tether in a cabinet hanging on the interior. The tether had a titanium safety hook on either side of a device that was housed in a small cylindrical canister the approximate size of a door fuse. To activate the tether, one needed to slide apart the tube to reveal the specially-modified kinesis module. When he came back, Sher had already slipped on the stasis glove and worked her fingers into it. He helped her affix the kinesis module to her shoulder.

"Attach the end of that tether to your suit," she said. "You can help reel in Cookie once I've got him."

A few seconds later, he stood at her shoulder, facing a crumbling support system. He wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to do or if he _could _do it. "Be careful," he said to Sher as he twisted apart the kinesis tether to activate it. She accepted it and hooked it to her belt. "Make it back in one piece."

She nodded, once, curtly, and bobbed on her toes. Silt scattered over the edge into the forest of beams. Then she slipped over.

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**A/N:** As always, let me know your thoughts & concerns regarding the story. I hope you've enjoyed so far, and I look forward to seeing you all Apr. 6th. Have a good week, everyone. =)


	31. Baited

**A/N:** Welcome back, dear readers and lurkers. I hope you've had an enjoyable week and that your weekend is much the same.

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**Chapter Thirty-one: Baited**

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Sher whipped through the tangled beams as if she was a jungle cat born to it. She'd been right; she _was_the better choice. He would've taken too much time to avoid the beams, and he would hesitate and pause. Sher kept going with utter confidence. Her momentum carried her through a particularly convoluted section, and Isaac braced his feet using the magnetic clamps. The kinesis tether operated smoothly, giving Sher enough slack to maneuver, but taut enough not to snap her.

Now she was at Cookie's side. She had to balance on a jutting beam. In agonizing slowness, Isaac waited as she hauled him to his feet and supported him under his shoulder as the kinesis tether drew them up from the pit; they walked along the sides, pushing upwards with their feet. Sher didn't take any chances either, using stasis as much as she could to support Cookie. He wasn't a tall man, but he still had to duck under places. Even from where Isaac stood, he could see Cookie grimace in pain each time he needed to twist around a shaky beam.

A few mechanical noises squealed from above him, and when Isaac glanced upwards, he saw a claw in motion along a track that was broken and mangled over the broken section of the wall. The claw would reach the end of the track, and if his guess was correct, it would drop onto the already precarious mess below it.

"Sher, Cookie," he said over audio, "you better hurry."

"We're moving as fast as we caaaa-_an_," Sher sang back.

He shot a bout of stasis at the claw, stopping it, but the solution would be temporary. If the claw should fall, his only chance of saving Sher and Cookie would be to catch the claw with TK. The distance looked to be out of range, too far for him to snag it at the track's end. He'd have to time it and wait for it to fall and then snatch it with kinesis in midair. Nerves made him sick. He'd done tricks before with the TK when dispatching Necromorphs, but never with a heavy, unwieldy claw.

In the time that crept by, Isaac used the rest of his stasis to buy Sher and Cookie as much time as he could, but it wasn't enough. Inexorably, the claw jerked forward on the track until it came to where the rail was shorn and a huge hole had opened up in the ceiling. His mouth went dry as his gaze fixated on the claw. It wobbled, teetered, and he lifted his hand, brain calculating velocity and distance. And finally, the claw wiggled loose. It plummeted. Instinctively, Isaac activated the TK. There was an awful moment when he thought he hadn't gotten it because it was _still falling_, but then his arm was nearly yanked from its socket. The claw's sudden weight caused him to wince back in pain, breaking the TK's grip, and it dropped again to the wreckage below.

"Shit!" Panicked, sure he'd sentenced Cookie and Sher to death, he reapplied the kinesis and stopped the claw a few centimeters above the jumbled pit. He grimaced with the pain and didn't let go this time.

"That's pretty impressive, Clarke," said Cookie, with his casual chuckle. Isaac jerked his head around. Sher leaned on her knees, panting, and Cookie held a hand to his temple. "But you know, you shouldn't show off. Most people don't like it."

They had cleared the hole! With relief, he released his hold on the TK. The claw landed on the layers of shifting rock and under the added weight, the beams and sheet metal could no longer maintain integrity. Metallic shrieks scored through the bay. The floor buckled and in a noisy rumble, collapsed into the hole. They stood on the edge, not speaking, as the bits and pieces sank into oblivion at the bottom of the station.

"Let's not do that again," Isaac said. His knees were watery from relief.

Then Sher's RIG opened a hololink.

It was Zao. He said nothing, but panned the camera's view around a work room, dim and indiscriminate. There were a few lockers and bins, plus a door. Heavy breathing- -a steady _hah…hah…hah_- -distorted the audio. The camera settled on a figure laid facedown on the floor, a cloud of dark hair scattered over her face. Ellie's RIG meter had emptied a few ticks and blood trickled from her temple. She was alive.

Zao had tied her wrists together and he used it as a handhold to haul her with smooth strength toward the door, dragging her behind him on the floor. Isaac dared not speak, afraid that any sudden noise would set off a violent episode. Zao continued through the door. A deafening rumble, a mechanical clanging, and when Zao shifted, Isaac glimpsed a larger area with a series of conveyor belts. Zao stood next to one.

The belt was broad, and as Zao turned, Isaac saw that it fed into a large compressor that stamped pieces of metal into thinner slabs. Zao was the maximum distance from the compressor when he dumped Ellie onto it as if she was no more than a sack of potatoes. She lay there, dazed, her hands and feet tied.

"That's in processing," Sher said. "If you sprint, you might make it in time to save her."

Isaac didn't say thanks. He didn't think. His mad dash brought him to the main controls lift, where he dumped the seeker rifle since it slapped into him with each stride. As his blood throbbed in his veins, the lift cranked at a snail's pace, uncooperative with his time restraints, and even before it came to a full stop, he had pulled himself to the floor and sprinted through the control room to the large, secured doors. He burst through them before they'd completed the full revolution to unlock, and he winged along the corridor, his heart thudding in time with his feet on the metal flooring. His noise would signal every Necromorph in the area, but he didn't care.

The familiar rubble and debris cluttered the walkway, and ignoring it, he skidded into the lobby. When he took the hard right to Shipment Processing, he stumbled, but regained his balance after a several awkward steps. His pulse hammered inside him as he exploded into the empty and macabre room with the lockers and the broken, blood-painted store and faced the doors to processing. Without warning, helplessness tinged with nerves stopped him. He knew that in order to save Ellie, he would have to kill Zao. Fingers clenched the pulse rifle; it felt unusually heavy in his hands. He didn't want to kill anybody, not if he could avoid it.

But there _was_no one else who knew the patterns and signs of the Marker, what it did and how to stop it. No one else to step forward to draw a line. No one else to stop humanity from crumbling under its own weight. He squared his shoulders and activated the thick doors into shipment processing. They squealed open, signaling his arrival, but the sound was lost under the rumble and clatter of machines in labor.

Overhead lights had been turned off, or disabled, so instead of quiet darkness he had to move into a noisy, unseen swarm. The rifle's flashlight swept over the deck as he checked his immediate surroundings. Along with the light, his visor and RIG would be seen, but he didn't think it mattered. From Ellie's disappearance, he'd known he was setting off a trap. All that mattered was what waited for him. What did Zao have in mind that necessitated Ellie as bait?

Hastily, Isaac moved forward on the main aisle. Blue and white electricity sparked from different machines as they revolved and descended in a practiced dance and the bursts of light illuminated the bulky ramparts that housed the gears. These machines ran smoothly, uninterrupted, though unmonitored. From his first crossing, he recalled that the conveyor belts were towards the middle of the floor, so he continued heading deeper toward that area.

Around one large, solid base, he came to a conveyor belt that was unmoving. He ran the flashlight beam along it. Strapped to the belt was Ellie, and she was awake and struggling to free her arms and legs. She saw him as he neared.

"_Isaac, watch out!_"

And after that, it was all a horrid blur. White blinked in his vision and he crashed to the floor, face-first. The pulse rifle escaped his grip, clanked out of reach. Nagging pain that had been unnoticed before roared to life and spread inside him. His visor protected him, marginally, as Zao gripped Isaac's shoulders, hauled him to his feet and battered his head into the side of another machine. He had no control over his body; Zao had strength that was unmatched. Faintly, he heard Ellie scream as Zao's knee rammed into the soft side of his stomach. The hoarse yell echoed out of his helmet as sharp razors zigzagged up from the fresh wound.

During the fight, Isaac's helmet disengaged and exposed his head and neck. Immediately, Zao took advantage. With an iron grip around his throat, Isaac strained, pressed against solid machinery, hands scrabbling over hard forearms, as Zao choked Isaac's world into going hazy. But Zao was shorter than him and Isaac, when it came to life or death, had no qualms about playing dirty. He jammed his thigh between the other's legs and with a steel-capped knee, nailed Zao right in the groin, and even though the Marker controlled Zao, getting a swift kick in the nuts was startling enough. Zao released Isaac to stagger back, clutching his crotch, as Isaac sucked in precious oxygen which helped to clarify the dark environment.

_Ellie. Get to her._ Forcing himself to stand, Isaac swayed as he groped along the railings to Ellie. His fingers fumbled at the bindings around her wrists, clumsy because his vision was smeared.

"The knife!" she said. Sweat glistened on her skin. "It's on my boot!"

He didn't question her. The sec-suit had plenty of attachments, and alongside her shapely calf, he found the black handle of a military-style survival knife. How it had gone unnoticed this whole time, he didn't know, didn't care, and he drew it from the sheath to saw at the plastic twine binding Ellie's wrists together. The twine was no match for the sharpened, jagged teeth; after a few passes, it popped free. She grabbed the knife from him.

"I've got this! Distract Zao!"

Two hands landed on his shoulders and hauled him from Ellie into another metal panel. It thumped with the impact. He pushed off it as legs wrapped around his waist, and he felt an arm snake around his neck. Zao had wedged Isaac's throat into the crook of his arm and squeezed. Already air felt choked out of him. Desperate, Isaac teetered around and slammed backwards into the metal paneling. The impact flexed the metal, and near his ear, he heard a slight _whuff_of air as Zao grunted. Again, Isaac whammed Zao into the metal paneling. But Zao held tight.

Isaac's knees weakened and he fell to the floor, pressed under Zao's body, seeing the dark edges of unconsciousness. Then a muffled report pierced the air and at the same time, the grip on his throat eased. He sucked air into his lungs as the pressure on his back shifted, followed with a dull thud. Zao lay sprawled to the side. Half his skull had been blown off. Ellie stood nearby with the pulse rifle trained on Zao's unmoving form. Neither did anything for a moment.

"He's dead," Isaac said, pushing off the floor to break the intensity. Ellie lent him a hand to help him stand. He wheezed a bit when his side pulsed hotly. "Thanks."

Her whole body was tense, her jaw clenched, but when he touched her shoulder, she sighed and slightly relaxed. "Isaac."

"We're okay," he told her, framing her face with his hands. Gently, he brushed away the blood that had trickled over her cheek. "We're okay."

In the dark, he watched her close her eyes as if she savored their quiet moment together. "Let's get out of here."

She nodded and handed him the pulse rifle. Taking her hand, he began to lead her out, but in the noise of the machinery, he heard something that turned him cold. He stopped and gestured to tell Ellie to wait, he was listening. The machines continued to churn and slam; had he imagined it? Let it be his imagination. But his hearing seemed to lessen the overbearing noise and hone in on the howl. The hunter's howl was close, closer each second.

"Ellie, RUN!" He shoved her forward as she leapt into sprint without question.

A chill shivered through him. This had been the trap; to capture Ellie to draw him out of hiding enough to bide time for the hunter to catch up. He chased after Ellie along the aisle between the machinery that enclosed them, dim and menacing sentinels that could hide danger. And his audio crackled with static.

"Clarke!" It was Cookie. "There's something big stalking around! Sher and I've hid in the-" Sher said something in the background, voice high-pitched and panicked. Then metal screeched and Cookie cursed, cutting off the audio.

It was all falling apart. Ellie was ahead of him a couple meters, her RIG and visor giving off a soft glow in the shadows. Metal whined, close enough that Isaac reversed his direction. A burst of sparks showered the area between them and a piece of machinery toppled over, crushing the railings and protective guards that enclosed the other machines. Out of the black speared a large, curved bone that spiked point-down in the floor. Then twin pairs of mad yellow gleamed at him. His blood curdled in his veins when the monstrosity released a howl.

He stumbled away when it hoisted itself out and stood at its full height; the Marker's force clamped on his brain, monitoring and gleeful. Having the Marker inside his head cluttered his thoughts, his emotions. But fear was a powerful motivator. His mind cleared enough to shove the Marker's presence aside. If he was to survive this, he couldn't stand around. In his rush to save Ellie, he hadn't thought to refill his stasis. Stasis was necessary to win the fight. Somewhere around here there must be a stasis refill station.

Though he ached to his bones, Isaac ran in the opposite direction and took a sharp turn to the right. He had to keep moving, keep one step ahead of the hunter, and maybe, just maybe, he might be able to destroy it. Or, at the very least, keep it occupied enough to prevent it going after Ellie or any of the others.

"Isaac!" Ellie called him over the comm. "What happened? You were-"

"No time to explain," he interrupted. He knew he sounded freaked out. "I've got something bad on my ass. See if you can't get to a vantage point. I need your eyes."

"Sure."

Okay, think Clarke, _think_. How was he going to get out of this mess? He needed a moment to strategize, to collect his thoughts. Snug between two circuit panels was a whitish-blue light; it had been blocked from view enough that he almost missed it. A stasis refill! Quickly, he slipped to the station and hit the button, keeping one eye over his shoulder for the hunter. A second later, his stasis was refilled and he was back on the move. He may have lost the hunter when he zigzagged around the machinery, but it was a Necromorph and was most likely trailing him using a vent. It didn't help that the Marker's signal inside him gave the hunter a trail to follow.

"Isaac, I'm on a catwalk overhead," Ellie told him. Slowing, he glanced up. Catwalks hugged the sides of the installation at a level that overlooked the working machinery. In the motion and shadow of the place, they'd blended in. "Look to your left."

He did and saw her wave at him. She was safe, for now. "We need a plan," he said as he started jogging again, too nervous to stop completely, and chose a random direction. His only goal was to keep moving. "It won't stop until it's burned or frozen."

"Wait, have you faced something like this before?"

"It's called the hunter. I put it into cyro the first time," he told her. "You don't happen to see anything like that up there, do you?"

"No. But…hold on." She paused for a moment. "Oh, you'll like this. There's an incinerator."

"An incinerator?" His brain snapped and _poof_, he had a generally bad idea formed.

"Let me get closer to it. I'll contact you in a moment. Try to stay alive."

He snorted. "No sweat."

The hunter had not made a move yet, so he doubled back to a few emergency supply bins mounted on a wall between two larger machines that he'd passed earlier. Grabbing loot was risky. With the hunter stalking him, he could be attacked from below, the sides, behind. Actually, he was vulnerable at all 360 degrees, but anything was better than nothing. As usual with emergency supplies, there were med-packs and credits, and in a shaded corner, he found a power node receptacle. If he was lucky, he would find a locked store room around here that a node would give access to, and if he was luckier, he would have the time to exchange some supplies in a store or fix up his suit.

Quickly, he shoved his scavenged supplies into any available pockets. He started up at a jog, rounded a corner, and backpedaled when a few panels exploded outwards. The suddenness of it startled him out of his skin. One panel nearly took off his head, but he ducked in time to avoid decapitation. There was the sound of a machine powering down, a general groan and clank, and through sparks, the hunter sliced free. It used its blades as crutches to wedge out of the machinery and tangle of wire. With his heart pounding in his throat, Isaac lifted the pulse rifle and fired at the joints connecting the blades to the muscled mass. One came off, then the second and before it went into the spasms, he used stasis on it.

He spun on his heel and ran, but had to slow when his side screeched in pain. Shit. "How's that incinerator looking?"

"It needs a power cell. I think I can replace it and get it turned on. You'll have to lure it in, and once you're clear, I'll throw the lever."

"Describe the look of it so I know what to expect."

As he forced himself to shuffle along, she explained the set up of the incinerator and an image of it formed in his head. Refuse was loaded on a conveyor belt, which rolled it to a chute. The chute emptied out in a chamber that was enclosed. One door led to the chamber and had to be secured from the outside before the controls would allow the incineration process to begin. Heating coils inside reached high enough temperatures to disintegrate most materials, but would definitely sear flesh. He would be boxed in with the hunter, but he could trap it inside and secure the door.

"How long before the coils reach maximum burn?"

She paused. "I'm not sure. I mean, I can experiment, but I don't know how long the process will take. What if it takes a few minutes to reset?"

Her implication was clear. He would be dead if he had to continue outrunning and avoiding the hunter. The sooner they destroyed it, the better. As if to punctuate his point, the hunter yowled from behind him. Shit. Isaac glanced over his shoulder, but the aisle behind him was empty. He didn't think the lull would last long.

"Replace that power cell as fast as you can. Where is this thing?" Her directions were concise; the incinerator wasn't far, but far enough to worry him. Anything could happen between here and there. "I'm heading your way. I hope you're ready."

"I will be."

Isaac closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. The fear had been under the surface, lapping at him, threatening to drown him. This was a time he couldn't fail. He had to have faith in himself, Nicole had once said, because others had faith in him. The Marker would not win. His pain ebbed, like a veil slipped away, and he hadn't realized the extent of it until it was absent from his mind. Things became sharp, crisp, and when the hunter lurched into a junction a few meters behind him, he was ready.

It turned its hateful yellow eyes on him. Both stared at the other, one undead, one living. Isaac tightened his grip on the pulse rifle. The hunter dipped its jawless head and let loose a guttural wail that should've had Isaac pissing his pants. But the fear had no sway over him anymore.

In response, Isaac glanced at a dangling rebar beam overhead. "Fuck. You."

He shot at the chain connecting the beam to the ceiling. In a resounding clang, it swung in an arc and whipped into the hunter's twisted body. The beam, the hunter, and a few chains went flying and landed several meters further away. The hunter was flat on its back. Isaac took the opportunity to skirt the mangled mess and take a position at a junction to watch and wait. It did not disappoint. After some minor regeneration, it dug its blade-points into the floor and hoisted itself to its feet. It looked around and when Isaac stepped out from hiding to pepper a few rounds at it, it swung to face him.

Isaac backed off, his eyes and mind calculating, preparing, and as the hunter closed in, he used TK to overturn a stack of metal crates. Again, the hunter howled at him, and if a Necromorph could become frustrated, this one was. It clamped a crate between its blades, lifting it with powerful muscles overhead, and flung it at him. Isaac had seen it telegraphed a million kilometers ahead of time and flattened his body against the nearest cage. The hunter picked up another, again lobbed it, but he was ready. TK snatched it from the air and allowed him to shoot it back, knocking the hunter to its back a second time.

Each time the hunter clawed itself upright and each time Isaac was a bit further away, drawing it closer, until the incinerator came into view. A large conveyor belt squealed a couple meters over an oblong structure, under which a widened mouth opened to accept refuse. He checked on the hunter behind him. It had already gotten to its feet; Isaac shot off the legs and arms and used stasis so he could find the door and get it open.

He signaled Ellie on audio. "Tell me we're good."

"Yeah. I'm at the controls now."

"I don't see you."

"Come around the other side. The door's here, too."

After a couple corners, he found Ellie at what looked like three long-armed, holographic levers in a small, depressed square in a cleared area of the floor. Yellow warning lines crossed everywhere. The door was directly in front of her, barred and with a green light hologram projected. Isaac slid the heavy metal crossbar free then hauled at the thick door. It complained, but opened reluctantly.

"Ellie, I need you to hide. Wait until the hunter's inside before coming out," he said. "As soon as I close that door, throw that damn lever."

She nodded her understanding and left to slip between two shadows not far to the side. Isaac turned and pushed open the door. Rubbish had piled knee-high, so he lifted up his knees to work over to the furthest side of the incineration. Being inside this deathtrap reminded him just how bad of an idea this was, but to keep the hunter from pursuing them, it was necessary to kill it. And so with a dry mouth, he waited interminable moments for the hunter to take the bait.

"C'mon. C'mon," he found himself saying to break the tension. "I'm right here. _I'm right here!_"

He kept repeating it until he heard its steps, until it hunched over to sidle into the chamber. He swore he saw it smile, so close to tearing its prey to shreds, and the stark lights showed off the oily, ravaged musculature, sinews twining over inside-out organs. Being close and _seeing_it sickened him, made him question his decision, but he forced himself to wait as it waded into the deep rubbish. It knew it had him and so took its sweet time coming closer.

In that time, a fissure blazed from his eye and the entire chamber was awash with symbols and glyphs that held some secret meaning that was beyond him. Inside his head, whispers rose in harmony with that familiar child's rhyme. He stood in the cold shadow of a great power, a shape that had haunted him and tormented him. Concentrate on what's solid. On what's real. He put a hand under his throat, touched the outline of the medallion, drew courage from it.

"And so it ends, Isaac," the Grey Marker whispered. The tone sounded motherly or fatherly, maybe both, but it was soothing. If it had fingers, he thought perhaps it would've stroked his head. "We will be made whole. Our wholeness will be the final step to unity. Great unity."

Isaac shook his head. "Keep me out of your fucking unity."

Inside the haze the Marker had tossed over him, he could see the hunter's white bone, it was that near. He was close enough that he didn't even need to aim his pulse rifle. A slurry of blood, blackened fluid, spurted from the torn holes. The hunter's torso thumped to the floor. Keeping his wits, Isaac dosed it with stasis before it could engage in that jerking regeneration. Hurriedly, he hugged the wall, tripping when his foot caught on something, and having to use another round of stasis on the hunter. What felt like a quarter of a lifetime had been lost when he cleared the chamber and shut the door, sliding the bar home.

Almost immediately, loud warning alarms sounded. Ellie had cranked the lever. He went over to her and they stood together watching the holograph as it tracked the incineration process. Neither said anything while they waited. From inside the chamber came a great, continuous howl.

BANG! BANGBANGBANG!

Both jumped when a monstrous bang took up chorus under a roar of flames igniting. Ellie's hand gripped his. He kept his eyes on the chamber walls, barely breathing. If the hunter should break through, they'd have to…he didn't know what they'd do. After a couple seconds, the bangs ended abruptly. They could've stood there for ten minutes or ten hours. It wouldn't have mattered. When the holograph blinked 'Incineration process completed', Isaac went to the door and opened it. He had to make sure. Ellie didn't stop him.

Fine ash coated the floor of the chamber. Some of it swirled in the air. What could've been bone or what could've been some other material lay in small, scattered chunks. Parts of the chamber had been gouged, long lacerations in the specially-cased steel. It had come very close to escaping its fate. Particles crunching underfoot broke the silence. He stepped back and forth, toeing aside fragments, just to check, not quite believing it had been done. But nothing reared up to spear him. Nothing moved in the death chamber.

"Ashes to ashes," he murmured. Ellie came to stand beside him.

"We should help Sher and Cookie," she said, gently, when silence dragged between them. "I haven't heard from them since we left the docking bay."

He put his arm around her shoulders because his knees felt watery and he was afraid he'd fall and shatter into innumerable pieces. "Did you happen to see a store?"

"Yeah," she said, adjusting without comment under his weight, "but it's upstairs. I don't know if we have time for it."

"We need weapons and ammo."

That was all he had to say. Ellie didn't argue with him, and he didn't think much as she helped him hobble up some stairs onto a catwalk. In a cozy alcove, sat a functioning store where he deftly exchanged credits and extra gear to buy Ellie a line gun, ammo, and himself a few more rounds for the pulse rifle. He also bought a patch for his suit where the twitcher had punctured it so that if he was exposed to a void, he'd have half a chance. Next time he saw Samson, he'd have to thank the guy for giving the sec-suits necessary clearance for the variety of gear. The whole time, it'd been a lifesaver.

At last, he was able to admit it to himself. The hunters no longer existed. Over and over the thought came. Surrounded with complete darkness came the simplest of feelings: peace. As he refilled his plasma cutter, the clattering machinery seized, and choking, shrieked to a stop. Lights shut down in a darkening wave until nothing was left but black and silence. Acrid smoke filtered through his helmet.

Ellie reached for him. "Has something disrupted the power supply?"

"Maybe. The only way to know for certain is to check the main lines."

They descended the stairs to the main floor to find the exit and return to Sher and Cookie. A few moments later, the back-up generators kicked on, giving them limited light. It also meant that the doors would remain accessible and that a few of the systems would remain active.

Ellie's RIG crackled open with a hololink. "Ellie! Isaac!" Sher was illuminated with light from the holoscreen. A cut across her collarbone openly bled. "The docking bay's been overrun. Don't come back here!"

"Where are you?" asked Ellie.

"We're on our way to you. Cookie and I can take you to the company's electrical conductor to repair them. If we can get the electricity back online, we get the bay doors open and escape." She slowed and glanced from side to side. "We can at least have light to see what's going on."

"Okay. We'll meet you at the entrance." Ellie signed off. "Looks like we're not through here."

"Our work is never finished," he told her and activated the door to the hallway.

On the other side, Cher and Cookie jogged up the corridor, their flashlights winking over the detritus and remains of black mineral. They stopped in front of him and Ellie, out of breath and sweaty, while Isaac scanned the corridor for any activity. He was sure that the Necromorphs would follow from the bay and try to swarm them. An ominous clank rang from the deep bowels of shipment processing.

"Let's move. Which way?"

"There'll be an access door at the manager's station," Cookie said. He gestured. "In Processing."

Sher brushed past. "I know the way. Follow me."

She went along the route that Isaac and Ellie had come, but at one intersection of machines, she turned and followed a long path to a wall that had remained hidden behind a bulky press-type machine. Two doors were side by side. One was to the manager's office and the other seemed to be a lift, which was labeled for emergencies. On the outside of it, a power node receptacle glowed red. A row of windows opened up the office, and Isaac noticed an empty chair, some cardboard coffee cups, and a toolbox. One of the windows was smashed in and the buzz of flies was unpleasant in the air. Sher went into the office to a blue box that was hung on the wall near the chair for the power node.

"This ought to do the trick," she said and slotted the node into the lift's receptacle. Immediately, it powered up. "Everyone, be nice and cozy."

The four of them did manage to hug together in the tight space as the lift spent a minute or so taking them to their destination. It opened up to a scene that Isaac was very, very hesitant to step out into.

"Are you seeing this?" Cookie whispered. "Because I can't believe…"

* * *

**A/N:** Next chapter's post date is Apr. 13th. See you then!


	32. Technical Difficulties

A/N: Welcome back, everyone! I hope your week went well and that since Spring is visiting you, you're not afflicted with allergies. Please enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-two: Technical Difficulties**

* * *

With the power out, the area immediately off the lift was lit, and there were slim lines of running emergency lights along the floors and walls closest to them. Rails prevented them from moving further. The problem was that the circuitry was in a vast cavity under processing. Distant emergency lights could be seen below them and on the far wall. The concern was that there was a network of corruption that stretched like spiderwebs across the open area. Some of it burped with putrid fluid and things squirmed unpleasantly under the surface of it.

"What the hell is that stuff?" Sher asked, squinting in the poor light. Quickly, she recoiled, cupping her hand over her nose and mouth. "Damn, it stinks!"

"It's known as corruption," Ellie answered. "It's what's been distorting our communications."

Deep from his memory, Isaac remembered Kendra's voice. "Bio-recumbent. An environment-changer."

Cookie leaned on the rail, peering over. "We were right. That junk has disrupted the main conductor. It shuttles energy from the station's main reactor to here, where it branches off to different areas." He shook his. "Hm-hm-_hm._ Doesn't look pretty down there. Some minor cells took damage."

"What's the minimum amount of repair we'll have to do?" Isaac asked. He felt that the area was too open and that left ample opportunity for attack. After the hunter, he was jittery about facing more Necromorphs. "The less time we spend doing repair work, the better."

"We'll have to mosey on down and see the extent of it, won't we?" Cookie said with a slow smile. "The zero-g's on a separate generator, so repairs'll be easy."

"There should be oversuits around here," Sher said, stepping over to a few lockers that were open and reached in to pull free two blue and white oversuits that she and Cookie zipped into. Their RIGs synched and they turned to Ellie, who activated the zero-g. The systems responded immediately with a warning, and after a moment, they floated in the weightlessness. Nervously, Isaac checked the corners of the area, obscured with shadow, but no Necromorphs screamed out at them.

As a group, they oriented themselves in a loose formation and maneuvered through the gross stretches of corruption. Everything was hushed in the pit, and in his cynicism, Isaac figured at least they'd be able to hear any attacks. Cookie led them, touching a large cylinder that stood upright from the bottom to nearly the top of the chamber. It was very similar in design to a ship's reactor. The entire system had been shut down on emergency procedures to prevent a massive overload on the circuits and fuses.

Spreading out in a pinwheel design were the various lines that divvied the energy further into manageable units to the sections of the facility. These were implanted in the walls and floor. At even intervals were stabilizer cells, which 'smoothed' the energy further for use in the smaller electrical circuits and fuses. They were small, about Isaac's forearm in length and a couple inches thicker. A few of these cells were uprooted or broken apart, since they were delicate pieces of equipment. More cells were placed on the conductor, but the majority of them seemed to be fine. Cookie gathered them to one, which he gestured to with his finger.

"This here's what's causing the problem. The system won't run unless everything is hunky-dory with the cells. We can replace the cells from the dispenser over there," he pointed and they turned to see a green box with a battery holograph, "and restart the system. If we all spread out, we can fix it up in no time."

Cookie led them to the dispenser, their suit stabilizers hissing as they maneuvered. Next to the dispenser were large rubber loops. Cookie grabbed one and slung it over his shoulder. When he opened the dispenser, he took out a fresh cell and on the end of the cell was a hook, which he used to latch it to the rubber loop. He collected about five of them, and waited to the side with a big smile as Isaac, Sher, and Ellie repeated his process. After they'd attached five cells to their loops, Cookie showed them how to change out the damaged ones by popping it out and fitting in a new one.

Isaac had plenty of time to think about their situation between grunting in pain. Each time he even shifted in the wrong direction, his stomach and side would twinge none too gently. The ache was sickening, but he said nothing because it would help nothing to complain or stop. And his ribs and arm talked to him, imploring him to find a spot, spread out, and fall asleep to alleviate the constant throb. A few times he caught Ellie gazing at him, but if she guessed his pain, she remained silent. Whatever had been messing with his right eye seemed to have cleared up, though, yet a headache still rumbled behind his forehead.

They had made a second trip to the dispenser, having made fast work of the first set, when the Necromorphs poured into the cavity. As they worked, they had spread out in a loose formation, not necessarily close together, but not spread too far apart. Between him and Ellie, there were an approximate six meters and the same amount between them and Cookie and Sher.

The constant headache in Isaac's head denoted trouble with a sharp stab into his eye. With the electricity off, no alarm sounded, no voice coolly explained the situation. It was a hiss-scream of several lurkers as they bounded into the space, but with the murky darkness surrounding them, Isaac couldn't see where the lurkers had landed. Automatically, the survivors came together in a tight group, each of them facing a different direction, swooping their flashlights over the floors and walls.

"We gotta get to a choke point," Isaac said. Even as he said it, three lurkers planted themselves in front of him. "Ellie, you've got the line gun. If they show their-"

"Right, I know," she said. Then her hand went out as blue energy leapt from her palm and cloaked the lurkers. He saw her toggle the alternate fire on the line gun and shoot a couple timed mines at the close collection of mutated babies. "There's no place for us to run. Everything's wide open."

"Guys…" Sher's call turned Isaac around.

From hidden vents came a putrid, yellowish glow. Emaciated exploders plopped out, lopsided, and in one aggressive lurch, sailed toward them. There were a half-dozen or so. From behind him, the quiet chime of the line gun's mine ended with a compact burst, on top of which was the muffled impact and ripping of meat.

"Take careful aim," he told them, distant under the jagged edges of his headache. "Shoot at the yellow. If you keep missing, try to at least sever its arm. Ellie, you're on crowd control. Watch for lurkers and anything that's coming at us from above."

Ellie shifted beside him to keep the line gun level. "Okay."

Sher adjusted her level; Cookie's suit hissed as he came up beside her. The exploders shrieked, an unnerving pitch, as they flew to their intended victims. Over the exploders, Isaac heard the crash of another vent and the roar of more Necromorphs as they entered the fray. Jaw clenched, he brought up his pulse rifle and sighted a few advanced leapers as they hugged the floor a few meters from the little group. He hated they were surrounded with nowhere to run. He hated that repairs were still needed. He hated being a part of this shit.

The leapers, slowed from the round of his stasis, could not dodge the accurate pulse rounds as they pelted through bone and disease-soured flesh. Chunks and clotted blood splattered as Isaac mercilessly dismembered the Necromorphs. In the chaos, explosions erupted as Sher and Cookie shot at the volatile infection. Ellie was remarkable with the line gun and mines, and it was for her that Isaac was most anxious. But it seemed he worried in vain. They had cleared the floor, the firefight lasting only minutes, and all stood in an uneasy silence that drew out.

"How much more do we need to do?" Sher asked. "I think we've officially worn out our welcome."

"Bare minimum, we can replace the stabilizers that direct the energy to the docking bay. The conductor will overheat, but we should have enough time to open the doors and fly the barge through," he said. "That's if we don't die in a fiery explosion."

"Let's move as a group," Sher said. "One of us can replace the cells and the rest of us can watch for those monsters."

"I'll do the replacing. You all give me the cells left on your loops." Cookie and Sher's oversuits had various holsters for tools, and Cookie fitted his rivet gun into one to free up his hands. "Let's have them, folks."

Everyone handed Cookie the rest of their stabilizer cells. They clattered together as he shifted, the loops under both his arms dangling with the replacements. He squinted in the dark. "The board for the docking bay is over here," he said and he began drifting over.

Sher followed, her small body tense and hunched over her riveter, and Ellie was close behind her to form up on Cookie as he efficiently began prying out the cells and snapping fresh ones in. Isaac paused to adjust his pulse rifle gun more comfortably and slot in more ammo. Then an unholy racket rose from around them in the dark. His right eye twinged a signal.

"Isaac! Hurry up!" Ellie called. Her visor showed the directions she faced as she tried to predict where the Necromorphs would appear. "C'mon!"

He boosted forward to a place with the small group, spotting movement to the side and using stasis on everything that caught his eye. The very real possibility that they would run out of ammo occurred to him and put him in a bad frame of mind. "We'll be overrun if we stay any longer! We have to go!"

Cookie shook his head. "This section has to be complete if we want power to the bay," he said. "Hold them off a bit longer. I can do this fast."

"Any longer and we're going to die!" Isaac argued. "It was suicide to try this in the first place."

"Quit yapping and start shooting," said Sher. "Cookie can do this if we give him the time."

Their repartee ended at that. Isaac concentrated on the swarm that swelled with ranks from ventilation shafts unseen in the depths of the pit. What came at them was a mixture of pregnants, slashers, with a few spitters and pukers. All of them used the zero-g environment to their advantage, shooting forward their bodies with their strong blades. Again, Ellie used the line gun to devastating effect, taking out the bladed limbs of the Necromorphs before using a well-placed mine to blow a small portion to chunks. But still, the Necromorphs came.

Isaac considered using the secondary feature on his pulse rifle- -the grenade launcher- -but felt it wouldn't be worth the rounds, when Ellie's gun was enough to do the job. He and Sher concentrated on stray Necromorphs that avoided the mine's destruction and on dismembering the bladeless Necromorphs that had fanned into the open area, floating aimlessly. The noise was immense, thundering from every side, echoing interminable chaos to every corner.

Ellie, beside him, shoved in a new clip. He could not see her face behind her visor, but he could see fear in her jerky movements. The wave of Necromorphs had not relented. Sher reloaded, and then Isaac had to, as well. He had another two full clips of pulse ammo, but it was difficult to conserve when the weapon had automatic firing. Sher was pale and absorbed in taking aim. Her rivet gun was weaker, but she hit the important joints of the Necromorphs. Ellie had the most effective weapon, and if the Necromorphs continued pouring into the facility, she would run out of ammo. Then they'd be fucked.

Isaac judiciously applied stasis on a group that was coming at them from behind, caught a spitter's semi-solid acid ball with TK, and shot it at the lot of Necromorphs. The acid burst, melted a few limbs, and in the meanwhile, he picked up a few broken blades to send them flying at the cluster. Ellie turned and popped off a mine in the middle of the group. Then they both swiveled, opening fire at more that were coming from opposite directions, enclosing them because there were too many and the survivors could not keep up with the sheer number that flowed steadily at them.

At this point, Isaac knew that retreating would keep them alive. "We have to leave! _Now!_"

"NO!" Sher said. "Cookie? How're we looking?"

"Just a few more, sugar. Just a few-" He cut off abruptly.

Isaac glanced over his shoulder to see what had happened. Before he even registered what he saw, he swung the heavy weapon upwards at the advanced slasher that had slipped through their notice. The impact staggered the slasher backwards, giving him breathing room, and he doused the blackened thing with stasis before shooting off legs and a blade and stomping as hard as he could on the remaining limb. It crunched with a spurt and broke off. Isaac righted himself as Sher glided over to Cookie, who was limp and floating. Grimly, Isaac took up her position.

"Jesus, _no_," Sher cried from behind him. "Your arm! Your arm!"

Isaac used a grenade on a large group charging closer and blew them to oblivion. More moved into the ranks. "We gotta move. Ellie?"

"Right with you."

Together they used up the last of their stasis and she planted mines in the slowed mass of Necromorphs. Isaac reached down, hoisted up Cookie, and coiled his legs for momentum. When he checked, Cookie's right arm was gone at above the elbow. In the zero-g, his blood bubbled together, seeped from the open arteries in dark red globoids that trailed behind them. He needed a tourniquet to slow the blood loss. The zero-g helped Isaac transport Cookie and as soon as his feet landed on the platform, he propped the injured man on the lift. Ellie and Sher landed a few seconds later. Ellie went to the zero-g panel and deactivated it while he went to the small office and initiated a sequence to power up the conductor.

Before any Necromorphs could crawl their way to the platform, everyone piled on the lift. As it crept on the track, Sher kept Cookie upright as Ellie and Isaac fumbled with bandages. Eventually, they fashioned a tourniquet out of the flexible loops that Cookie had around his shoulders. Cookie looked drawn, pasty, and sweat trickled over his clenched jaw. He didn't cry out, but bore their administrations in stoic silence.

"When we're in processing, we'll have to make a few quick stops. There's a stasis refill and a store that we can use to stock up our ammo. We'll need it if we have to clear out the docking bay again," Isaac told them. "We'll be attacked constantly, so don't let your guard down."

Across from him, Cookie swallowed and nodded. He straightened up. "I'll carry my own weight. No, Sher," he said, when it looked like she would argue, "you can't drag my sorry ass over tarnation."

Tight-lipped, she allowed him to support himself. His remaining hand withdrew the rivet gun from the holster. He chuckled as he toggled off the safety. "I was a terrible shot under _normal _circumstances."

"Maybe you'll be better left-handed," said Ellie. "Is it full?"

Cookie accepted Ellie's help in reloading the riveter. Sher and Isaac reloaded their weapons, and in the lull, Ellie did as well. The lift finished its ascent and the survivors piled off into the stillness that lingered in the maze of machinery. Isaac's eye didn't speak to him, and, he noticed, he had gained full vision in it. Why or how, he didn't care, only that he could fully see. Whether there was a reason or method, he'd have to worry about when he wasn't keeping himself and others alive. The stasis refill was their first stop, and they hustled up the steel steps to the store, where Isaac bought and sold materials in record time. As they waited for Isaac, Sher briefly explained the bay procedure for the barges.

"So you can't open and close the door remotely?" Ellie asked. "Seems a bit…laced."

"The company likes to know who's controlling what. Sometimes, more than one bay is needed for large orders and so barges have to be redirected to another bay," Sher explained. "There is an override code to open all doors at once, but I think when you rebooted the system, it glitched. Normally we have energy fields to seal bays from each other for procedures."

"Think we might be able to use those energy fields? We can block your bay, clear it, and send you on your way," Isaac said.

Sher blew out a breath. "I don't know. Maybe."

"We can give it a college try." Ellie started along the catwalk. "Let's get out of here before we're caught up."

They agreed. Sher followed Ellie, Cookie after Sher, and Isaac brought up the tail-end of their small group. Cookie leaned on the railing and stumbled often, but when Isaac lent a hand, he smiled and shook his head, brushing off the assistance. As they came to the door that opened to the corridor, ballistic screams, roars, rose from behind them. The Necromorphs had found them. Without a backwards look, they escaped into the corridor to the main controls, where they peered out of the windows to the bay. A few Necromorphs had clustered throughout the area, but they would be easily dealt with and none were close to the repaired barge.

"Ellie, you know the systems best. I'll go with Sher and Cookie to help them launch," Isaac told her.

She didn't question him and sat at the control panel. "Be careful."

Sher and Cookie had already loaded onto the lift, waiting for Isaac to join them. He did and watched as Ellie disappeared out of his view. Once the lift stopped, they spread out in a loose formation, taking care to duck behind strewn equipment. They got on the barge, checked it, and Isaac helped Cookie strap in as Sher started up the barge. He disembarked and glanced over the hull of the barge one last time, finding the usual dings and nicks, but nothing that would weaken the integrity of the ship. He gave Sher a quick thumbs-up.

"Ellie, we're good. Drop the energy fields," Isaac said over the audio. "I'll stay down here in case something happens."

Ellie must've had her finger on the button. The energy fields, with a soft buzz and whitish glow, descended from the ceiling and floors, a barrier between them and the leftover Necromorphs. Sher started the engines. They lit with a blaze, the roar and heat rolling into the bay, and the large, designed door shifted into gear. Lights blinked, warnings sounded, as the bay went into decompression and zero-g. Isaac's suit compensated. The loud, mechanical cranking was slow, methodical, and it was three-quarters open when electricity sparked. It malfunctioned, slamming up and down in a rapid, sporadic rhythm. At the same time, the energy field weakened.

"The conductor's overheating!" Ellie said on open audio. "Sher, gun it. Isaac'll have to stasis the door at the right moment."

"Roger. Ready when you are," replied Sher to Isaac.

The barge's engines revved, stabilizers swiveling in their ports to lift the barge from the floor. When Sher torqued the engine again, the heat became unbearable as close as he was, but Isaac watched the door and as it came down, he released the stasis. The door went blue and in slow motion, drew upwards. It couldn't have been more perfect. Sher loosed the throttle and the barge screamed out of the bay into open space. Isaac waited, a sick, anticipatory squirm in his stomach, as the barge's back thrusters burned out of sight. He waited until the stasis wore off and the door went back into critical malfunction before he thought anything.

Carefully, he let in a tentative realization. They had made it. They had escaped. He hadn't dared to hope, but it had happened. Someone had been saved.

"Isaac, get your ass up here!" Ellie called him from his dazed relief. "The energy field's failing and the conductor's ready to blow!"

Angry cries resonated in the docking bay. To his sides, Necromorphs had gathered at the wavering white energy, pressing against it with their blades and bodies, yellow eyes hot on the fresh meat. Time to go. He hauled ass across the floor, and when the energy field failed completely, darkness encompassing him, he had a lead on the Necromorphs clamoring for his blood. The lift was ready for him, and as he activated it, he had to open fire on a few advanced slashers that sprinted at him.

Ellie grabbed his arm. Alarm systems blared in the control room, reds and yellows scrolling across the holopanels. Panels sparked, cracked, and little flames leapt up. Ellie had taken the lead, exiting into the corridor to weave through the rubble and debris left from the moonquake. They tripped in their rush to the elevator, stumbled over rock and metallic parts, and ducked under wires that had supercharged and writhed in a tangle in front of them. The elevator was as functional as when they left it, but when they boarded, the lights dimmed. A rumble vibrated the metal. Isaac guessed it was the conductor overheating. After a couple heart-pumping moments, the ride smoothed out.

"I think we should be able to find a lift into the catacombs," Ellie said when they'd caught their breath. She leaned against the side of the car, and he wished he could see her face under the visor. "I have the Marker team's coordinates. It's a matter of getting to them."

"Were they far away?"

"Not that I could tell." A pause. Then, as if she'd heard his thoughts, she disengaged her face plate. "Isaac, I want you to look at me for a moment."

At first, he wanted to refuse because the request denoted a serious moment that she wanted to have with him. Serious moments historically did not turn out well for him. He and Octavia had had a serious moment when she told him that his father wasn't coming back this time. Also, when she'd revealed that she'd purchased a vested position in the Church using his college funds. But Ellie gazed at him, her head tilted with expectation, her blue and green eyes free from confusion or madness, and he could not refuse her. His visor slid back by sections.

"What's wrong?" In the back of his head, whispers spoke to him over the residing headache. "What is it?"

"Where did that thing we burned up in the incinerator come from?" she asked.

"On the _Ishimura_ there was a doctor who experimented with live patients. He created the hunter. Why?"

"Yes, but how did it get _here_?"

Isaac sighed. "In order to defeat the first one, I put it in a cryogenic tube. I guess when Tiedemann salvaged the _Ishimura_, they discovered it and transported it here."

"Or…what we fought was a different experiment entirely," Ellie said. "Are you sure there were two separate on the _Ishimura _and not the same one twice?"

Horrible realization dawned on him because he _couldn't remember _exactly how many hunters he'd faced. The entire experience had blurred together, now that he had to think about details. Distinctly, he recalled putting it in stasis and activating the cryo chamber, and he remembered using a shuttle's engine test to burn another one to ash, like the one in processing. But had it been the same one or had it been a different one?

"And Isaac," she said, with her eyes averted, as if she didn't want to come out with what was on her mind, "how did this last one get loose if it was so highly secured?"

"What are you worrying about?" He turned aside. "It's gone. There's nothing more left of it."

Ellie was not to be deterred. "Did you set it loose on purpose?"

He did not answer. He didn't have to since his silence answered her question for him. Her look of absolute disbelief nettled him and he reached out to touch her, but she recoiled from him. "How could you do that? How could you let that thing roam free? There were innocent people…"

"There areno innocent people working for EarthGov," he spat. The bitterness was bile on his tongue. "Those soldiers were on orders, probably ninety percent were Unis, and the same could be said for the scientific team."

"But you can't go and…just…lump them all together like that!" Her disgust melted into something that burned much hotter. "Not everyone is out to get you."

"I had to do _something, _Ellie!" His anger was so much easier to reach than patience. "I had to use what I could so that I could get _you_. And releasing the hunter into EarthGov was as good a distraction as any."

"_You're supposed to be the good guy!_" she exploded, jamming her finger into his chest. It hurt more than he cared to admit. "You're not supposed to let free a death sentence _for a distraction!_"

Not much else he could say in his defense; the anger sizzled and went flat because the truth was so obvious. "I haven't been a good guy for years."

His quiet comment served to back Ellie down and she sighed and shook her head, shoulders drooping. This time, when he cupped the nape of her neck, she allowed herself to be drawn closer to him. He rested his chin on her head and spoke in a whisper. "Releasing the hunter in EarthGov _was_ a bad idea. I knew that people would die because of my choice, but it was the only thing I could do at the time."

"I know," she said, sounding weakened and childlike, "but I worry that you'll take a path of revenge and that might…make you into the character you're trying to avoid. Does that make sense?"

"I understand." But he couldn't help wondering if he was already the type of person that she feared. Nicole, or the piece of him that held tight to her, believed that he was redeemable, that he was the key to the Markers' downfall. Maybe he was. Certainly, he had done so many bad things that he couldn't possibly justify them with any magnitude of good he did. "Ellie, I can't even be sure we're even making a difference by being here. Are we doing anything by fighting? Will we win? I don't know."

Ellie squared her shoulders and brought her hands to his face. "We have to trust that it will be okay, even if we're afraid."

Words had never truly held sway over him, but these did it; the memory of his mother hit him full in the chest. "When did you….?"

She pecked him on the lips, drawing back with a smile on hers. "Your mother told that to me before we turned around and came back for you. It struck me as an awfully brave thing to say."

Octavia's words living on in Ellie left a mark on him, something that reminded him that he had lost the woman who'd waded out in water with her clothes on to help her son learn to swim. She'd been stifling and stiff and unyielding. She forced him to conform to her high expectations. Despite that, he'd never hated her, and he regretted that their lives had followed different paths. She was the one, after all, who'd comforted him when his young heart had been bruised from his father's desertion.

"She was much braver than I gave her credit," Isaac said.

At that moment, the elevator slid to a stop, the doors whined open to reveal a steeped darkness.

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**A/N:** Also, sorry about this chapter. I was pretty lazy when I wrote and revised it, so the action parts feel mundane to me. I'll end up revisiting it again; in the meanwhile, I hope to see you all again on next Saturday, Apr. 20th. Until then!


	33. Return to the Catacombs

**A/N:** Welcome back, dear readers and lurkers! Not much to say except thanks for your continued support & faithful reading. I can't tell you how much I appreciate you coming back to this story week after week. Please enjoy.

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**Chapter Thirty-three: Return to the Catacombs**

* * *

Machines that earlier had clanked and ran with noisy purpose had quieted. There was no power to this area, except what was emergency. Much like the conductor chamber, everything was coated with a breathless silence. Nothing could be heard, or seen for that matter, outside the diameter of their flashlights. Ellie stuck out her hand to activate the blue waypoint, which directed them to a secondary lift on the other side of an office to the left. That secondary lift was active and the ride down was an uncomfortably long one.

The lift doors spread open to a walkway that seemed to burrow into the mineral that was Rhea's foundation. In the intermittent time since they were underground, corruption congealed the walkway with a meaty substance, and like what they'd faced around the conductor, it stretched across the space in a web of fetid, reconstructed DNA. Since the space was narrower, the corruption had layered on thicker, but it was nothing like Isaac had faced under the deck in the docking bay.

"Looks like we'll have to cut through some of this," he said. He squinted in the semi-dark because he caught a glimpse of fiery red. "I see some napalm canisters. We can use those to save ammo."

Ellie stood on tiptoe. "Yes, I see. Sounds good."

The canisters were on a cart that had been parked in a square alcove up ahead. To get there, they did expend a few rounds of ammo, but once beside the cart, they used kinesis to expel the canisters at the growth. It burned off, leaving behind the indescribable reek of singed, rotted meat, and they were able to clear a path to another functional lift.

As they waited, Ellie opened a hololink to Trey, who answered it with his helmet down. "Ellie! Is Isaac with you?" he asked before Ellie could say anything.

"Yes, he's here. We're on our way to you," she told him. He looked battered, with a cut across his cheek and a large red and purple mark swelling over one blue eye. Rusty hair was plastered around his face from sweat. "How are things?"

The link distorted. Static and snow fuzzed the connection. "We're still bunkered down. Calhoune's rallied, but the Major…he's not good. Leo's with him now. Look, whatever's down here with us, it's massive. We're running scans and mapping out the extent of it, but I don't know." Trey's confidence wavered. "I'm not sure we can even make a dent on it."

"Stay put. Isaac and I'll be there soon."

He nodded. "We've been picking up a distress call of some sort from further into the caverns. It looks to be on your way to us. I'm sending you the coordinates of it in case you want to check it out. Could be nothing."

"Or could be survivors." Ellie squared her shoulders. "Thanks, Trey. Ellie and Isaac, out."

Isaac let the silence separate them for awhile. "I'm not sure taking on survivors at this stage is a wise idea."

"Oh, shut up," she said. There was neither venom nor kindness in her words. "Survivors or not, it's worth exploring."

"Here's hoping it's a nuke that'll blow this place to hell."

She sighed. "Your answer to everything. Blow it up."

"Hey. It works."

She didn't have an answer for him, so they rode the rest down in silence. This time when the doors hissed open, they had come to a wide, circular platform that jutted out into a vast cavern. Its vastness was giddying. Isaac noticed as they approached, that on the platform was a control station. Chairs were blood-smeared, overturned, and panels were shattered. No corpses were present, but blood trails indicated that they'd been dragged off in to the abyss. On the other side of the platform was a large, open-air lift, where a blue audio log lay abandoned.

He picked it up to show to Ellie. "Found something."

"Play it," she said. "I think this will take us to the bottom. There should be other tunnels that will let us get to those coordinates Trey sent us."

Once the lift rattled into motion, Isaac played the log. "I am Aster, speaking to my fellow brothers and sisters." Aster's voice was laden with fevered excitement. "Praise the Marker. The time is nigh. EarthGov's control over our centers of worship, over the glorious Markers, will come to an end. It is time. It is time to allow evolution to take hold. We will be united as one. We will be- -"

As they listened, they discerned a scuffle and some incoherent shouts in the background. "Subdue the heretics! Subdue them! They will be denied Convergence!" A few sharp reports from a gun. "We must continue further into the caverns. We must be at the Marker's feet in order to worship it properly!" Then the audio cut off.

His skin crawled. "Psychos," he spat with disgust. His cynicism flared. "They probably went down there and committed suicide to start an outbreak."

"Isaac," Ellie said, aghast. "You really think that?"

"Wouldn't it make sense? They're itching to start a Convergence event that EarthGov can't control. The head honchos order the 'selfless' freaks to sacrifice themselves for the greater cause."

"That can't be right."

"History is full of assholes killing themselves in the name of some religion or other," he told her. "Sometimes it isn't even a religion."

"Do you think we'll face many Necromorphs? If the outbreak truly started in these tunnels, wouldn't they spread outwards and desert places already infected?"

He snorted. "I would love to say yes, but with the way things between me and the Marker have been going, I doubt we'll have it that easy."

"Lovely."

After the lift settled in its bracers, they stepped out into a very flat, empty opening. Various steel beams crisscrossed the rock to hold it against cave-ins, and a few light fixtures beamed dim light from the far diameter of the crevasse. A round door spun and opened the entrance into the tunnels that threaded through Rhea's interior. The mining crews early on had used a complex system of waterways and canals to help move the mineral, which he recalled was buoyant, but with the construction of the Arboretum, much of the water had been moved to the public sector and stored in Water Treatment.

As before, the smooth tunnel walls were lined with medium-sized metal squares and were fixed with placards. More catacombs. Isaac paused for a moment to wipe the grime off one. _Ballard, Audrey. 2394-2440_. Who had she been? Had she been kind? A mother? Had she died from an accident? Or a health issue? The date she died was before he was born, and he couldn't help but do the quick calculation. She'd been the same age as he when she'd died.

_Stevenson, Colt. Roth, Lukas. _Names and dates, thousands of them residing under the busy, everyday routine that had occurred on Rhea. Dead and dust. Soon, the whole station would be dead, if wasn't already. His heartbeat was a painful reminder of his mortality. How long did he have? Was his time counting down? The thought led him to the rumor that the Unitologists had built secret ships to freeze their hundreds of thousands of dead followers. That gossip was old, but he wondered…if even an iota of the gossip was true, then Unitology had been implementing plans for many, many years. How could he possibly defeat an entire religion?

Fact was, he couldn't and it didn't bear thinking about at this moment.

"Isaac?" Ellie's soft call drew him from Audrey Ballard's grave. "You okay? We shouldn't stop."

He relaxed his arm, registered the weight of it swung lax against his side. "Yeah. I'm coming."

"Hey," she said, her tone soothing as she took his hand. "We'll make it out. We've done it before."

"Sure." Her fingers squeezed his; he squeezed back. "I'm worried over what happens next."

"You're Isaac fucking Clarke. Whatever happens, you'll kick its ass."

Her confidence in him brightened his mood, and behind the visor, he cracked a rare smile. "Ellie…thanks."

"Now." She punched him in the shoulder. "Let's kill that Marker, shall we?"

Shaken from his melancholy, he followed Ellie's aqua RIG in the shadowed confines of the tunnel. Even though there was space, the tunnels felt too close, too narrow. The ceiling pipes and cords hung low enough that he ducked a few times, and he was sure he could stretch out his arms and touch the opposite walls with his fingertips. For being at ground-zero of the Necromorph outbreak, few signs existed that there was anything wrong. They passed bins, vending machines, restrooms, all quiet and unmarred. At the several junctions they came to, Ellie checked her waypoint until she hesitated at one.

"Trey's coordinates for the distress beacon is in that direction." She gestured to a door that was offline. Gashes across the door and sliced, dead wires revealed the cause. "Think we could manually crank it open?"

"We can try." It was better to agree than to argue, especially since it was obvious she'd made up her mind.

He went to the door and pried open the panel that housed the manual cranking mechanism. A few short moments later, he'd successfully forced open the door. This particular door lifted up, and he flipped the tabs in the door's frame to hold it up in the 'open' position. A small little access hall greeted them. Various lights blinked on and off in different colors. Ellie slipped through, her body lithe enough that she didn't have slant her shoulders, as he had to, so the bits and pieces of his suit wouldn't scrape. The hall went right and ended at another door, this one unlocked.

There was an inner-room with shelves, a bench, and a few suits that had hung on a rack. A row of lockers was unlocked, and three or four emergency supplies caches were attached to the near wall. Several corpses were strewn about on the floor; after testing them with TK and finding them truly dead, they stepped through. Old-school communications gear, which had been set up on a desk, spooled through an audio playback.

"…holed up from some insane Marker-heads. If there are any R-Sec listening in, you gotta help! We barely escaped those assholes. They killed half our crew and then _took the bodies with them_! If anybody hears this, _call R-Sec_. Send 'em down here with everything they've got and do it soon. We don't have much time. O'Malley, here! We got-"

Morosely, Ellie ended the distress call. She stood in the middle of that room, her back to him, and even though he couldn't see her face, the attuned part of him sensed her upset over finding dead corpses rather than living survivors. Her feeling came through as a soft pulse, vague in shape, but like stepping away from a canvas to view the bigger picture, Isaac could gauge it and generally understand what it meant.

"Ellie"- -he clasped her narrow shoulders in a lukewarm show of sympathy- -"I'm sorry."

Sympathy did the trick. She sighed. "I know. Let's just…" Her back straightened. "We should look around. We might find something useful."

"Yeah."

Physically, he could track her resolve as it hardened, as if what she felt was a part of him also. Strange, that. He was never very good at reading people; he'd never intuited emotions like Nicole seemed to when she'd been alive. But here, some implicit awareness helped him understand Ellie's minute defeat. Then she shifted from him, stepping to the lockers; the moment had broken. He went to assist her. Together, they opened the lockers and stomped on the bins to collect the leftover goods, mostly ammo and stasis refills. They had finished up when Trey opened a hololink on Ellie's RIG.

"We aren't picking up the distress beacon anymore," he said. "Was that you guys?"

"Yes. Nothing here but some pick-ups," Ellie replied. "We're coming to you now."

Trey nodded. "Treyton, out."

The hololink closed and Ellie again took the lead through the crisscrossing tunnels and byways of the underground caverns. Everywhere felt abandoned, deserted. No Necromorphs popped out to surprise them, though their pathway became increasingly congested with corruption and cysts. Every so often, they would have to shoot at the pods to aggravate them into gushed self-destruction. Aside from that, Necromorphic activity was at a stand-still. They eventually came out into a larger, broader section that had two walkways alongside a deep, rounded sluice through the middle of the walkways.

"An aqueduct," Isaac murmured.

On the wall next to them was a large display of the aqueduct system. He pinpointed their location on the map with his finger. Five massive aqueducts had been constructed from underneath gov-sec to outer points around Rhea. Ellie leaned in to trace their route with her own finger.

She tapped it on a symbol that indicated a control station. "This is where the Marker team is. Not too-"

A low, powerful tremor rumbled under their feet. They clung to each other as the floor vibrated, rattled, and the bark and strain of metal clamored around them. One end of the aqueduct burst apart as an enormous length of slick muscle punched through. It slipped along the bottom of the aqueduct, hardened globs of yellow infection winking at them, as the tentacle stretched out. The size of it unnerved Isaac. Massive hardly seemed an adequate word. A putrid stench fogged the air as craters in the tentacle plumed with noxious fumes.

"What the bloody hell _is _that thing?" Ellie said. She stumbled forward along the wall, Isaac hot on her heels. Both realized the necessity of an exit. The floor had not stopped shaking. "God, it'll block us in!"

She was right. It slithered over the lip of the sluice onto the walkway, whamming into the wall, denting the metal and effectively sealing off the doors along that wall. The tentacle continued to curl and slide across their path, leaving behind a mucky trail. There was no rhyme or reason to the sinuous movements of the tentacle; Isaac believed it wasn't attacking them yet, but rather getting a foothold before it did.

"SHIT!" Ellie screamed.

Tons of fluid muscles rippled in their direction, a barrier of it that they would not be able to vault over. Crap. Acting on a miracle, Isaac hooked an arm around Ellie's waist and hurled both of them sideways. His elbows and back collided with the smooth sides of the sluice and they clanged and clattered to the bottom of it, in a tangle of limbs. The feeler's heavy presence swiped over their heads.

"Up the ladder!" He saw that there was an access ladder running up the sluice's side. It went straight up the side of a tall support beam to an access platform over their heads. "We have to get off the ground."

Ellie scampered to the ladder, scaling it like a goddamned spider, and she was meters above his head when the feeler crashed against the side of the support. His heart lurched when she lost her grip, but she was strong and quick enough to catch a rung with a single hand. Ages passed as he watched her, helpless, as she dangled until she got her footing. He followed up after her, the pulse rifle slapping his back, and she yanked him over the top. They flopped to the platform. More metal groaned and strained and over it, the scream and telltale roar of Necromorphs. Isaac was on his feet a moment later, dragging up Ellie by her wrist, and they scrambled to an unlocked door. The second they dove through, the tentacle ripped the platform from its bolts and sent it flying in a crumpled mess across the aqueduct. Then the door shut.

"Clarke! Ellie!" Trey's voice was distorted on the shared link. "What's going on?"

"It's that fucking colossal," Isaac told him. He and Ellie stumbled to their feet and began jogging down the empty corridor. Everything shook. "We had an up-close and personal experience with one of its roots."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, great," said Ellie. "We were nearly turned into slush."

"You guys gotta get here and see this," he said, "and watch your asses."

Ellie sighed when the link cut off. "He makes it sound so easy."

By the time they ducked through a couple more doors and skirted a few damaged areas inside the corridor, the quaking had quit and they had arrived at a quiet, shadowed area that was lined with lockers and various shelves stocked with scattered supplies. The shape, shade, and quality of craftsmanship had changed from practical mining to atheistically stream-lined. They had breached the government sector's underground. In fact, Isaac's sensory perception buzzed and hummed with the closeness of the Grey Marker's signal. Not that it hurt, mind you, but it was definitely there, living and breathing under the fragile surface.

Standing guard was the Major, his back and shoulders straight and his stocky body blocking the entrance to the control station. His visor was lit, and the blinks and flashes of his sec-suit gave him an otherworld quality in the half-dark that shrouded him. When Isaac and Ellie stepped within sight, he sprang into action. He had a large, black weapon in his hands that looked very much like a seeker rifle in shape, but the stock was round and bulky, topped with one barrel. It looked like something EarthGov had developed recently. Isaac got a good look at it because the Major fucking pointed it in their direction.

"Lay down your weapons! Put yer hands where I can see them," Kaassen commanded, his torso bent and hunched over as he anchored his feet. "I _will_ open fire!"

They stopped short, stunned with the hostile reception. After a second of processing the Major's threat, Ellie opened her arms and set aside her line gun. "Major…it's us. It's Isaac and Ellie." She elbowed Isaac in the ribs when he didn't comply with Kaassen's demands. "We're with you. We're friends."

The Major hesitated, his frame loosened for a split-second, but in the palpable tension, he stiffened again. "You came to finish the job, but I'm not gonna let you, you scum-sacked sons of bitches. Put down that goddamn gun!" He gestured at Isaac with his gun. "Put it down now!"

Isaac eyeballed Kaassen's weapon- -one he'd never seen before- -and wondered if he could overpower the Major before he fired a round. Ellie beside him had put her hands on her head and she twisted to him.

"Put. Down. Your. Gun," she hissed through clenched teeth. "He's going to _shoot us_."

But Isaac disengaged his visor instead, and the Major stepped backwards, propping the gun closer to his shoulder, finger curled on the trigger. Behind his aching eye, Isaac heard the Marker's signal singing a lullaby in Kaassen's head, a tune that cloaked and dazed and showed the old man visions from his past. Whatever that past had been, it had been violent, numbing, and the Major inwardly writhed in painful regret from it. Isaac knew a thing or two about scars that remained unseen. As he'd done in the research lab next to the Marker, he modulated his own calm courage to exude from his voice.

"Major. You can trust us. We're with you," he said. "Don't let the Marker tell you lies. Lower your weapon. We aren't fighting against you." Kaassen drooped, his arms relaxing until the gun clattered to the floor. "That's good. We're with you. We won't hurt you. You can trust us."

The Major's knees gave out and he listed to the side, his shoulder scraping the metal panel as he sunk to the floor on all fours. His visor opened, revealing the sweat-soaked crags and cracks of a pale, wizened face, eyes closed tight; and his barrel-chest heaved in and out as he sucked in air through great gasps. Ellie rushed to him. Isaac remained as he was, monitoring the Marker's activity, and found it had released. Let go. Or maybe, backed off. He sighed with relief.

"Please, please don't tell the boy," Kaassen sobbed to Ellie. "Please don't let him know I'm weak."

Ellie had gripped the Major's shoulders. "Sure, Major. We won't breathe a word."

Isaac gave them space. He didn't need to feign interest in the dropped weapon at his feet. When he picked it up, it was lighter than he expected, but had a weight to it equal to the pulse rifle. The engineer's side of him puzzled over the stock, thumbing open a locking mechanism that popped apart the rounded ammunition clip. He tilted the stock, tapping one of the rounds out, and held up to the weak light. Red encapsulated the three-inch cylinder. Incendiary rounds. Nice. Instead of bursts of flame, it seemed this gun would shoot explosive rounds, which would pack a punch.

The Major had staggered to his feet with Ellie's help, so Isaac put the weapon back together and handed it over. The Major nodded his thanks, so the three of them went single file through the unlocked door to the water control station. Inside was cozy, but big enough that it didn't feel crowded with the six of them in there. Trey, Calhoune, and Leo stood inside a circular area, surrounded by glass windows that reflected the multitudinous blue and white and green holoscreens. Their eyes had fixated on a large holoscreen that was front and center with some type of schematic highlighted on it.

"Surprise," Ellie said, and it was a testament to how enthralled they'd been with the graphics that the three of them jumped and spun around, their faces stricken and hands protectively on weapons' grips. "Did you miss us?"

After their initial scare, they relaxed and general greetings went around. Hansome Calhoune treated them to a big, toothy grin; Leo showed her warmth to both Isaac and Ellie with a firm hug; and Trey shook hands. Isaac was accepted as one of them and from the others, he noticed that the atmosphere had a comfortable, trustworthy feel to it, like everyone had clicked into the same rhythm. Smoothly, Trey transitioned their attention to the holoscreen as Calhoune and Leo stood back so that Isaac and Ellie could see.

"On the screen is the current state of the aqueducts that go out from gov-sec's center," Trey told them. The schematic zoomed in on an aqueduct, dissected it, and pointed to several areas that had been damaged. It shaped the damage into the long, thick feeler that lay languidly in the sluice. "Tentacles have rested in each of the aqueducts." He typed a few commands and the orange graphic shifted into a thinner, capsulated shape. "This is the facility for the Marker's research lab, called a shroud. It has been entirely overgrown with tissue." Again, the graphic generated a visual of how the body of the Necromorph twisted around the Marker's atrium. "As far as we can tell, growth has not reached inside the Marker's atrium. Once we free the Necromorph from the outside of the atrium, we should have a clear path to destroy the Marker."

"We can't blow it from the outside," Ellie stated flatly. "Right? Because that would be too easy."

Trey pointed at the growth. "That, and the tissue is too thick. It would pad the shroud from the explosion. But," he said, tapping quickly, "if we can sever the tentacles that are in each aqueduct, the Necromorph's hold on the tower might loosen and fall away."

"The best we figure," Leo interrupted, "is that the colossal, as you named it, is like a hand forming a fist around a pen."

"You cut off the fingers, you free the pen," said Isaac. "Those tentacles are enormous. How do you propose we sever them?"

"We already have a bomb," Ellie said. "Why can't we use that? Plant it underneath the Marker and then…boom."

"The bomb here," Trey jerked a thumb to the black case strapped to his back, "is powerful, but it was made specifically to destroy brittle rock. Namely, the Marker. I can't be sure it'll penetrate the thickness of the growth or if it does, if it'll open up a side of the shroud."

"We don't want that." Isaac rubbed the side of his head. "The more dead bodies that come near the Marker, the more powerful its signal."

"Our best bet is to remove the tentacles from the main body."

There was a pause rife with unstated frustration. Then Ellie said, "This was what you all were thinking about when we came in."

Trey nodded to confirm her answer.

"Those tentacles can still be blown off." The Major's gruff voice came from behind them. As a group, they turned to face him. "Trey, you could fashion special explosives to sear through those tentacles."

"We'd need the proper materials," Trey replied, slowly.

"When I worked for EarthGov, underground areas like this always had special supply caches. You make up a shopping list and we'll go get what you need."

Ellie, ever skeptical, interrupted. "Hold on a moment. How will these bombs even work? And will they even be mobile enough to get into these aqueducts?"

"I'll use a plasma core and modify it so that when it detonates, the plasma will be shaped and condensed into a blade." He used his forearm and the flat edge of his hand to demonstrate. "If it works, the tentacle will be completely severed. You set it up, hit the button, and run like hell. The bomb _will_ be big in size, but only because it'll have a bunch of parts. Two people will probably have to carry one."

Isaac could visualize what Trey had in mind. "If we find all the parts, it'll take time to construct all five. You think you're up for it?"

A smile spread across Trey's face. "You _are _talking to the explosives expert. I can manage. Let me make up a list and then the rest of you can go on a scavenger hunt. I'll find an area around here to start building." He moved to the control panel and, hunching over it, began rapidly typing.

Ellie's frown was deep. "I don't like this."

"It's the only plan we have, darlin," said Calhoune, draping an easy arm over her shoulder. His charm oozed out of his pores. "So turn that frown upside down."

Leo rolled her eyes in disgust. "You're feeling better."

Calhoune chuckled and opened his mouth to issue a reply, but a cold glare from the Major stopped him. Calhoune shrugged, dropping his arm from Ellie's shoulders, and sidled away. Isaac watched Calhoune's back, not sure what the fiery surge of emotion meant, but not liking it. Not liking what it meant for Calhoune.

To shake the feeling, Isaac turned his thoughts to Kaassen. The man seemed recovered from whatever had taken hold in him, but that had been a dangerous edge. At any moment, he could teeter too far in the wrong direction and fall into madness like Zao or Stross. Isaac didn't know what else he could do, but to keep the rest safe, he would have to watch Kaassen. He was the best choice for the job anyway as he expected a betrayal and would take care to avoid getting stabbed in the back. Trey, having a military background, would most likely want them in pairs. He'd stick with Kaassen to keep an eye on him.

"Trey," Isaac said as he stood next to the control panel, "I want to stick to Kaassen."

Trey lifted his hands from the keyboard to look at Isaac, his lips a thin line. It was moment that made Isaac uncomfortable because he hadn't prepped any reason beforehand as to _why _he had this sudden preference, but Trey understood or must've been aware of the Marker's effect on the Major.

"Okay. Is everything…?"

Isaac nodded. "We'll be fine."

Trey absorbed Isaac's response then went back to compiling the necessary supplies list. And nothing more except for in another minute, a quick series of beeps indicated that a file had been sent to their RIGs.

"Okay, everyone," said Trey, speaking out to the others who were in a loose group, "listen up. I've divided up the items. Calhoune, you'll stay here and direct us. Ellie, watch Calhoune's back. Isaac and the Major, you're team one, Leo and I are team two. Between us, we should be able to recover what I need to construct the bombs. Calhoune, if you'll do the honors?"

"Sure thing."

As Calhoune sauntered over and wedged his tall frame into the command chair, Ellie glanced at Isaac with that question in her eyes. He nodded. She frowned, but took up a holding position outside the center. After a few chirps, they linked their RIGs to an open channel amongst them. Calhoune checked both the audiolinks and hololinks. His screens flashed, bringing up coordinates and bright dots that represented each member. Radiating hotspots showed the materials Trey needed, and Calhoune relayed those coordinates to the group.

Before they walked to the corridor to split up, Ellie opened a private channel over audio. "I hope you know what you're doing," she murmured.

Isaac let Kaassen move ahead of him a few meters. "Trust me with this. I might be able to keep him in line."

She sighed, and let him have the last word when she signed off. Isaac knew she was trying to protect him, but he knew she was the one needing protection. If the Marker took Kaassen, Isaac wanted to be there as her first line of defense. The dark and quiet corridor echoed with their shuffling and the tread of their boots as they followed the waypoint to the first cache.

* * *

**A/N:** I added some bits to the end at the last minute so there might be some lite revisions and edits later on. Let me know if something is funky or weird so I can correct it. That's the best part of writing a fiction like this...it allows the reader and writer to have a dialogue that can positively affect the writing. =) Anyway, I hope to see you back on Saturday, Apr. 27th!


	34. All In

**A/N: **Hey, everyone. I've rearranged and revised this chapter so that it fits better with the overall story arc. More notes at the end, if you're interested.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-four: All In**

* * *

SLAM!

"_Fucking ouch_!" Isaac wrenched his fingers from the unwieldy metallic piece that amounted to a giant, outdated transponder. It had clamped on the first knuckles of each hand. Aggravated, he called over to Kaassen, who fiddled with a strap. "A little help here?"

He heard the smile over the audio. "Awww, did you get an owie, Clarke?" Since the group had separated, they maintained radio contact over an open party link, so everyone could hear and respond to everything.

"It's not funny."

"Isaac, are you okay?" Ellie, at least, had some compassion.

"I'm fine," he told her, shaking out the sting from his fingers. Damn piece of outdated junk. "So far."

Kaassen came around the back end of the t-kart to lend a hand. "On the count of three"- -his grip flexed on the transponder's edges- -"one…two…three."

Together, they hoisted the metal box to a spot on top of some green bins. Kaassen casually drew another strap over the top and fastened the buckle.

Isaac tested the integrity of another knot, which held under his vicious tug. Their scavenged supplies were stacked chest-high on a requisitioned EarthGov Telekinesis Cart, also known as a t-kart, with its primary function being to transport heavy, unwieldy equipment up and down straight lengths. Other secured items on their list had been added to it, tight straps stilling what seemed to rattle.

Ellie asked, "So do you think this grand plan will work?"

"I can't say." He dusted his hands. "I hope so."

"Seems like a lot of back and forth."

His back complained, so he stretched his arms over his head. A few discs popped into place. "What do you have in mind?"

"Nothing," she said, "but I can't help thinking that we can plant the bombs, hit a button, and have the tentacles off in one go. Wouldn't it make sense to do it that way?"

His long pause must've worried her because she continued, "Think about it. You have this…_connection_…with the Marker. Or whatever. Wouldn't it begin to anticipate our plans if we did each tentacle one at a time instead of altogether?"

She had a point. The Marker, more than ever, was aware of Isaac and he of it. Hadn't he felt it use signals in defensive and offensive maneuvers? Taking the time to destroy each tentacle separately would be predictable- -the Marker would pick up on their methods and begin to send more Necromorphs in their path or, worse, focus on screwing with their collective heads. He activated his kinesis module to uplift the TK-friendly base into partly hovering off the ground. The Major stood on the other side, also lifting it, and the t-kart responded with a small groan when everything settled, and as a team, they began to haul the floating load up the wider tunnel.

"I can see what you're saying," he said at last. "It's just that, it may not be possible to set up the bombs and detonate them from far away."

"You mean the corruption would cause inference."

Their boots crunched, echoing between the smooth, blackened rock walls. On their long descent, the tunnel had been monotonous, with nothing new to look at or see. The same held true for the return trip. Steel trusses marked their progress at precise, even intervals. Everyone on the link had gone silent to listen to his conversation with Ellie.

"Yes, there's that," he replied at length.

"And?"

Damn. She'd picked it up in his tone. "And…any number of problems could arise. One of the tentacles could shift, or one of the devices fails, or the devices are more powerful than we originally planned. It could go sideways at any moment."

"I think it's a great idea," said Trey, interrupting their conversation. "Making it a remote detonation will be icing on the cake."

"Hm." The Major added his two cents with a grunt. "Our best strategy is to weaken the Marker and then use that weakness to our advantage. Blowing the colossal sky-high will open that window of opportunity."

"But," Ellie said, "Isaac's right. The corruption might cause interference."

Trey spoke over the Major. "Guys, listen. I can make sure that the signal from the remote to the device will be strong enough. Trust me. Leo and I are finished here, let's regroup and talk it through then."

Isaac's attention turned inward on the new connection with the Marker that Ellie had mentioned. Had the signal reformatted his brain? Or was it a mind over matter concept? Nothing could be certain except what he felt and knew. In his mind, he recognized that he should be flat-out on his back, but for whatever reason- -or perhaps because of the Marker's signal- -his body refused to quit. His _mind _refused. And was it because he refused to succumb to the signal that he could use it for his own purposes? _Was _he using it for his own purposes?

Long corridors led to more long corridors until they arrived back to the control station with the t-kart. Trey and Leo had beat them there, and based on the supplies piled high in their t-kart, it looked like they'd been as successful. Trey strode over to them, his eyes bright on their items, and he vigorously nodded his head.

"This is even better than I hoped for," he told them as he shifted a stack of tubing aside. In a show of eagerness, he rubbed together his hands. "Great work!"

"You're like a kid at Christmas, Treyton," announced Calhoune's drawl over the group's audio. "Try to tone down your enthusiasm."

"Isaac, you're probably the best to help me construct the bombs." Trey ignored Calhoune's snark and loosened a strap, sliding the buckle free. "Ellie and Leo, will you undo these ties? I've set up a workstation over there," he jerked his thumb to an open door that led out of sight, "so we can move everything inside."

The women released the ties and buckles, and when they were finished, they helped Isaac, Trey, and the Major to move it all into Trey's repurposed chamber. Originally, it had been a work area of sorts, with a large table square in the center, but it seemed to have been abandoned for some time. Dust and dirt swirled and settled on everything when they shifted around.

Trey had scavenged some standing lights, which he'd stuck in the corners, powered with portable generators, and as everyone went to and fro, they had to goose-step over the long running cords. The tabletop itself had at one time been lighted, much like the mod workshop on _Retribution_. Industrious as he was, Trey had already lined up the tools he'd needed, and he directed the others into placing the supplies around the room.

Deftly, Trey divided up the tasks. Ellie and Leo were to pry open large battery cells, which would expose the self-sustaining units inside. Isaac would create an electromagnetic funnel that would shape the plasma into the correct direction, and Trey would be responsible for wiring it all together and ensuring that the plasma cores could be detonated from a distance. They worked with quiet purpose, each absorbed in the completing of their tasks. Isaac found the concentration a respite from the fear and paranoia that plagued him.

But even in his moment of peace, the Marker's insidious presence rippled under the surface, profane and subversive; an evil insect that crawled under his skin. It pulsed, breathed in slow rhythm, seated in protection and unreachable through any normal means. Beckoning him. Whispering words to him he didn't want to hear. He set aside his soldering iron to press his palm into his pained eyeball. What was the Grey Marker up to?

"Isaac? Are you well?" asked Leo from the other side of the table.

Before he could answer her, Calhoune stepped inside their work area. "Folks, I mapped the best routes to each of the aqueducts. If this crazy-ass plan works, y'all will need a shortcut to the Marker. There're several access ladders and ducts that'll bring you right up underneath that bitch. I've mapped it out'n sent it to your RIGs."

He hesitated on his next words enough that the bad news exuded from him. Leo set aside her screwdriver to gaze at Calhoune with her serious, dark eyes. "You're not telling us how we're escaping after the Marker's destroyed."

"Yeah, that's the problem," Calhoune admitted. He raked a hand through his already disheveled hair. "We ain't got one."

His words registered with such finality that heaviness swung through them with physical weight. Ellie, too, set down her tools. "There must be _something_. The scientists and researchers would've had shuttles or…or…"

Calhoune's eyes had softened at the corners. "Sugar, I told the truth. There's not a one in the entire sector. I've scanned and rescanned and triple-scanned. Nada."

"We've got an escape option." The Major had stepped into the room, unnoticed. "We can radio the _Retribution_. If I know the Cap, she's already in position and picking up survivors."

"How can we get a link going that's strong enough?" asked Leo. "With everything running on emergency power and the Marker clogging the airwaves…" She shook her head with exasperation. "There's no way we can signal them as we stand now. Even _if_ we find the equipment to do it."

As Isaac observed, the Major's aura changed. Some internal decision had been confirmed inside the old soldier. "You'll get a clear call out. Leave it to me. How're these plasma explosives coming together?"

Isaac let it be as Trey explained the function of the devices to the Major, pointing at wires and buttons and the like. There were a couple more modifications that each needed, but soon, five odd-duck devices, cobbled together from spare parts with duct tape, a wing and a prayer, were powered up and blinking, ready for detonation. Trey had been correct with his observation that the devices needed two people to carry them, but Isaac used his plasma cutter to section out the t-karts' bases. With the devices strapped into the miniaturized t-karts, they were easily lifted and moved with TK, so that one person could direct the device and have a free hand.

"We're at the point now where we have to decide how to plant each one," said Trey as the group stood around the prepped devices. "Time-wise, we know the station's going to shit. We could divide into teams again, which would give each two-man team one explosive, and then we'd have two left over."

"I can take one on my own," said Isaac. It wasn't that he was suicidal. He worried what the active Marker might wreak on them if they stayed too long. The threat of what the future could bring outweighed the risk of bearing and planting the device alone. And too much time had already been spent in this place.

"Isaac, no!" Ellie cut forward to stand in front of him. "You're not going alone!"

But he waved her off. "The faster we can take out the colossal and get at the Marker, the sooner we're through this nightmare. We can't mess around anymore. It's all chips in or fold."

"If that's how you feel about it, Clarke, then I'll take one as well," said the Major. He favored Isaac with a meaningful gaze. "We oughta divide up our pilots, so Trey and Ellie on one team and Calhoune and Leo on another."

"We still have one left over." Leo gestured to the last and fifth device. "What do you plan on doing with that?"

"Leave it to Clarke and myself," said the Major. His terseness conveyed his irritation with the small snags in the grand plan. "One or both of us will double back for it. When all devices are planted, we'll make our way to the coordinates under the Marker. Once the colossal is cleared, we'll breach the shroud and destroy the fucking Marker. Questions? Good. Let's get a move on, people."

With the Major's attitude on the subject, none of them questioned him. Leo and Ellie had picked up some white spray-paint and went to number each device on the side, since they had decided that the numbers would coincide with each aqueduct's number.

Their busyness presented the perfect opportunity. Isaac wanted the Major within his view, concerned that the Marker would eat at the old man's mind again. He was certain that the Major would be better in a team or at least working with Isaac. But when Isaac pulled Kaassen aside, Kaassen said, "I know what you're going to say. I'll keep it together long enough to plant the bomb. I _will _do this."

Somehow, Isaac could feel that Kaassen had knitted together a strong defense against the Marker, one that showed no chinks. Kaassen was himself again and was strong enough to stay that way. He believed that Kaassen would come through for them. When they returned to the others, Leo and Ellie had assigned each device a clever call-name. One Bird in Hand; Two for the Money; Third Little Pig; Four Down, One to Go; and Fiver. Isaac took the third; the Major, one. After Trey and Ellie, and Calhoune and Leo picked, the last one left was Fiver.

During the final preparations- -the weapons' check and recheck, clip restock, stasis refill, and assurance that each device was fully operational- -Ellie tugged Isaac into a private corridor where an alcove had been carved out. "Listen up, Isaac," she said, before he could remark, "you don't have to prove anything. You don't have to do this by yourself! What do you think you're doing, going off half-cocked and-"

But in her anger, she'd closed in on him, and he couldn't resist. He caressed her face with his hands, brushing her skin with his thumbs. The dirt and sweat clung to her, her eyes haunted with exhaustion, yet her youthful beauty glowed in front of him. And more than that, her love opened up to him, a fissure of golden light and heat that physically lanced through him. Pressure squeezed on the inside of his eye cavity, though he was too deep inside the emotion to care. She'd been through so much, put up with so much of his shit, he hardly thought it fair for her to be as steadfast as she was. Ellie would never turn her back on him. It was then he noticed a faint horizon, far in the distance that spread across their relationship, and their coming to it would be inevitable. He didn't want to think about that distant future.

"Ellie." He whispered her name, touching his forehead with hers, wanting to be inside her mindspace so badly it hurt, to be separate from himself for a moment. "Ellie, it's what's right."

A rush of air as she sighed. "I know." Her words were miserable and defeated. "But I don't have to like it, do I?"

Their mouths met. Isaac got his wish. For a brief moment, he and Ellie were suspended above the chaotic evil that had torn through life on Rhea, shredding and screaming and hemorrhaging until all that remained were death throes. They became separate from that, _more _than that. Passion boiled between them, and if wasn't for their dire straits, he'd have probably fallen with her to the floor. Christ, he wanted to be free of this godforsaken curse inside his head. Why couldn't he be free?

Isaac broke off the kiss, finding it too bittersweet to endure, and reached into his pocket for the data stick that had the Oracle files on it. "Here, keep this. In case something happens."

As she accepted it, he wiggled a finger between the front clasps of his sec-suit to separate it. Reluctantly, the suit's woven fibers peeled back at the seams to reveal his black shirt. The St. Christopher medallion lay on his heart. He removed it and looped it over Ellie's head; it swung into place, perfectly positioned on the curve of her breast.

"I can't accept this!" Her hands went to pull the chain back over her head. "It's yours!"

He stopped her hands. "I don't know if I'm going home when this is through. But _you _are."

"Will you stop it?" Ellie cried, yanking back her hands. "You're probably the one person in the universe who can see this through to the end. Why are you being like this?"

"I have a bad feeling. Please, trust me." He helped her tuck the necklace into her own sec-suit and repaired his own.

"I wish you wouldn't do things like that," she murmured, but she didn't sound cross anymore. He'd thwarted her for the time being. "It seems like you think you're going to die at any second."

He didn't want to upset her further by saying that was exactly what he thought. Ever since the Red Marker, his time had been running out. Soon, he'd face a danger there would be no coming back from. Nicole had said he'd been chosen for this path, that he was the one who needed to be their justice, he was the strongest one, the one the Marker feared. But he was the one to fight against the Marker, not the religion that started it. That fight wasn't his, nor was his fight about EarthGov's misguided attempts to research and harness the Marker's power. No, everything he did was to focus on destroying the Markers.

Which meant, he realized, that this Oracle organization and his father were not in the grand scope of his war. He said, "The medallion and data stick are both unfinished business. I want to make sure everything's finished, if I'm there or not."

Silently she nodded, but for Isaac, that wasn't enough. "You gotta promise me, Ellie. If I don't make it back, you finish what's been started."

"I promise," she told him. "I promise."

"Okay, then. I have to run something by Trey. Would you send him in here?" Please, Ellie, don't press me for details. What he wanted to tell Trey was very personal, and it would aggravate her if she knew about it. Since Isaac was so certain that something bad was going to happen to him, he wanted someone he could count on. Someone with an aptitude for survival.

"Sure." She embraced him before leaving through the door, her pigtails swinging with her stride.

In the span of empty time, Isaac tried to get a grip on what he would say to Treyton. He only knew that he needed assurance that Ellie would be protected and watched. But how could he ask that of someone he barely knew? It was unfair. It was stupid and selfish. Besides, Trey was a kid- -he was Ellie's age, for fuck's sake. What could a kid possibly do against the dangers of, but not limited to, EarthGov and/or Unitology?

Trey entered a moment or two later. Like Ellie, he had dark bags under his usually lively eyes, and he seemed drawn, older. But he carried himself with purpose, with great dignity, and it was that inherent confidence, the subtle loyalty that Trey had given, which helped Isaac feel that Trey was the man for the job regardless of age or inexperience. He could ask of Trey a promise that couldn't be asked of anyone else.

"You wanted to see me?" Trey loosely held a pulse rifle in his hands. "We're set to go and waiting for your mark."

"I have to tell you something first." Isaac gestured him closer, and after the young man complied, Isaac continued quietly, deciding directness was his best approach. "Ellie's all I got. If I don't survive whatever's out there, she needs to be protected. Can you do that? Whoever or whatever threatens her, can you shield her from it?"

"Clarke, man," Trey dipped his head and glanced aside. "You're gonna be fine. _Ellie's _gonna be fine."

"But if I don't make it, can I trust you to be there for her? She needs someone to watch her back." Isaac closed his eyes, feeling the Marker's signal as it hummed in his nerves. What would he give to be able to slip to somewhere absolutely noiseless, with total sensory deprivation. He opened his eyes to reality. "I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important."

Trey frowned, but straightened up. For a long moment, he gazed at Isaac…assessing? Isaac wasn't sure. But finally, he sighed. "If anything happens to you, I'll be sure to watch her back."

Relief flooded through him. "Treyton…I appreciate that."

"Hey. You're the Marker killer," Trey replied with a boyish smile. Isaac was reminded of Greggs for a moment. "I can't tell you no."

A forceful presence interrupted them. "If you two ladies are finished braiding hair, can we get a move on?" The Major stood filling up the corridor with his shoulders, glowering at Isaac and Trey. "Both of you will be late to the dance!"

Trey chuckled and hoisted his pulse rifle. "I still think my dress is prettier."

Isaac smiled, and walked after the two soldiers to the loose gathering of individuals who'd committed to reversing the reign of terror EarthGov and Unitology had exerted across the galaxy and planets. Perhaps their death awaited them; perhaps, in Isaac's case, answers. Why had his mother been sacrificed? Greggs? Wren? The list went on and on. Would the Grey Marker reveal any new leads, or would it result in more questions?

"Everyone," said the Major, breaking the nervous quiet that had fallen over them, "it's been a pleasure and an honor. We've proved that dedicated individuals, soldiers or not, can resist the Marker's hold. Let's bring this to an end, whatever end that may be."

"Whatever end that may be," echoed Trey, along with Calhoune and Leo.

Together, they stood in the thrall of their accomplishments, of the people who'd been taken from them, hearing the below-threshold activity as the Marker stirred and murmured. Stood with their past failures and successes, the exhaustion that scraped their eyelids over eyes, weighted their limbs. Stood with the solid, unshakeable trust and faith that the person on either side of them would not fail the task at hand. They believed in each other. And Isaac was included in that belief. He could do this once more.

"It's time," he said. "Let's go."

Isaac gazed at Ellie. Wordless, their truth sparked and carried out across the space between them. They both were as ready as they'd ever be. Visors shuttered forward, TK streaked bright white in the cloistered shadows, and weapons' sights cut glowing lines in the lowlight. Isaac lifted the third device, leveled his plasma cutter, and took it to the side door that he knew would begin his journey to his aqueduct. He did not look back as he exited the station.

"Isaac?" Ellie, on audio. "You there?"

"I'm here."

"I'll see you soon."

"Yeah."

He heard a soft breath on the other side. "And Isaac? Get through alive, okay?"

"I'll do what I can."

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for the radio silence, everyone. Works being sucking hard and I haven't had the patience and mental capacity to deal with writing; however, things are calming down some. I'll definitely have chapter 35 ready for posting by May 25, and then hopefully have the end of the story completed by June if everything pans out. Again, I apologize for dropping the ball. I do value your time and commitment and I hate to disappoint you.


	35. Heavy Metal

**A/N: **Welcome back, dear readers and lurkers! I'm so sorry for the delay in posting, but I have my act together now. I've revised a lot and I'm well pleased with the result. So, please enjoy.

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**Chapter Thirty-five: Heavy Metal**

* * *

The broad, metallic corridor ran for a length, frequently dividing into intersections and continuing out of sight in either direction. Every once in a while, a dire message dashed out in blood would warn him. A nasty shock nauseated him when he realized he saw the symbols as letters in English…and he couldn't remember when he'd obtained the ability to translate the cuneiform without trying. He told himself he had to avoid worrying about it, but the storeroom for his worry was filling up rapidly.

It was impossible to say how far he went without seeing Necromorphs. But he didn't drop his guard. Any moment, the horde would come crashing through ducts or lurch around the corners. His path had led him from a main corridor into a series of smaller, tighter side halls, which matched the condensed design of ships. Calhoune had warned them that routes would divert from main concourses because of damaged doors and locked areas. However, the farther from those broader routes he went, the less space he had for avoiding attack. He'd fought in close quarters on the _Ishimura_, and it hadn't been an experience he relished.

So he should've known.

Isaac turned a corner to another hall. Two people could walk side by side comfortably, and the ceiling was a meter or two overhead. He wasn't a hydro engineer, so the TK cranks, valves, and pipes that stretched up and down the sides of the hall were unknown to him. This area was remarkably darker than previous ones and damp, for an aqueduct that had supposedly been bone dry for decades. Several monitors and meters half-heartedly blinked and bleeped at him, lacking the electricity to give full readings. Further along, the hall widened into a control room with floor to ceiling work stations and screens.

When alarms blared in decibels enough to scare the piss out of him, he set aside the plasma explosive so he wouldn't trip over it. The station announced the presence of a bio-hazard in the vicinity. A grate crashed unseen; Isaac glanced over his shoulder, paranoid about his six, but an angry roar secured his attention forward.

With the darkness and orange, epileptic flash from the emergency lights, Isaac barely registered the blue blur as a Necromorph charged from around a station. Reflexively, he shot at it, the plasma cracking through flesh and bone, and in his haste, he'd missed the thigh. And then it was fucking _on _him. He stumbled back, but the wall caught him, stopped cold his retreat. A scythe descended; Isaac batted it aside with his forearm, and it crunched into the panel over his head. With his free hand, he had a death-grip on the other blade. Up close, the rotted and infected flesh wafted a ripe, sweet odor into his helmet. Closer and closer the dead mass pressed to him. Its roars deafened him, the drip of blood and drool splattered his visor, as he wrestled with the twitcher for control.

"I don't have fucking time for this!"

He wedged his foot between their bodies and kicked with every ounce of his might; the twitcher staggered back, far enough that Isaac used the cutter with righteous precision. It fell to pieces and remained unmoving even as he stomped the head, crushing it under his foot like a grape.

Another one howled toward him. His heart in his throat, Isaac TK'd a blade from the 'dead' one, cracking his elbow into the wall, and blasted the improvised missile into the oncoming twitcher's midsection. Blood and gore spurted out of it. The twitcher careened back and hung like a loose sack on the blade that pinned it to the wall, dark liquid dribbling from its speared guts. The lockdown cancelled. In the abrupt quiet, Isaac caught his breath and cleared his head.

Sighing, he lifted up the explosive. He _detested_ fighting in close quarters.

Isaac moved through the control room. On the other side of the short area was another unlocked door. On tiptoes, he crept forward, guiding Little Pig with TK. The door ahead of him had the symbol of the aqueduct and the crest of the hydro engineers, so he knew he was getting closer. Once he opened it, he slipped through into another control room. A forlorn drip echoed out from the far end, and he noticed that there were puddles that hadn't evaporated.

His waypoint took him around an upright metallic jumble filled with wires and plasma circuits, and into an inactive lift. More meters, monitors, and blank, cracked holoscreens lined the room. These seats were not empty; instead, gnawed corpses spilled out, slouching over the panels or stretched in gruesome violence on the floor. Testing them with his TK revealed no hiding Necromorphs. Dark congealed blood had sprayed everywhere. He grimaced when he found another audio log in a curled hand.

To cut the oppressive silence, he let it play while he fiddled with the terminal inlaid into the lift. "Hail the glorious Marker, which will bring to us salvation and Convergence. May it forever be sacred and holy, amen. My brothers and sisters, we have come to the last steps of our journey. Our battle has been a bloody one and may those who've fallen find piece in the rebirth that will spread over this station and into the universe."

Aster's zeal sickened Isaac, who had to pause before he shocked himself with the wires. "The Marker has called us with its awing power, the power that will uplift us into Convergence and evolution. Once we've crossed the threshold, experienced Ascension, there will be no stopping the glorious power that the Marker will bestow upon us. All praise the Marker! May we be rewarded at the end of our righteous journey!"

Several other voices rose in praise of the Marker before Aster signed off. Isaac finished hacking the lift and called it. Whatever Aster and his followers had done, it was in the aqueduct below. Nerves fluttered around in Isaac's stomach when the lift opened for him. What would he find besides the tentacle?

"Let's go, Little Pig," he said to the explosive. "I hope you do the trick."

Isaac had never been a skittish man, but he'd seen the awesome size of the colossal, had felt the influence of the Marker in the darkness cast onto the station. His nerves were so shot that when the lights flickered, he jumped and aimed his plasma cutter at every corner to make sure nothing showed up unexpectedly. Nothing did. Then the entire lift whined to a shuttering halt. The computerized recording announced that the track had an obstruction and that repair technicians had been notified. Dutifully, the lift opened at the next available level. Shit. An ill-timed detour he didn't need.

Before leaving the lift, Isaac activated his audio. "Hey guys, I've got a problem here. It might take me a few more minutes to get Little Pig in place. Do you copy?"

Static punctuated Trey's reply. "…copy. We're…aque…stand…" The rest of his message was unintelligible, masked by the static. "…resis…out."

With that, the link cut out. Grimly, Isaac stepped from the lift into the new area. Christ. This was going to be hell. There was never a place that he hated as quickly or more thoroughly than here. What lay out in front of him was a narrow hall, an access corridor if his guess was good. Pipes lined the walls and ceiling, water dripped out of joints that had rattled loose, and the drip-drip-drip sound echoed in the hall with nerve-wracking steadiness. Also, the emergency lighting was weak and sporadic at best.

Anxiety prickled up his spine. He kept the plasma cutter raised to shed light into the dark tunnel, footsteps crunching over the loose silt that had accumulated on the path. Minutes crawled past as he strode further into the confined tunnel. Puddles that had been shallow deepened to a couple inches and soon rose to his ankles. Darkness encompassed him more times than not. Further and further he pushed. He needed something to happen. _Anything_ to break this unbearable monotony.

"Iiiiis-_aaac…_" A faint, sing-song voice whispered his name; it chilled him to the bone. He faltered, slowed, when his arm muscles ached with a painful burn. How long had he followed this tunnel? For ages. An eternity. "_Isaaaaac_. Can you hear me?"

The throb increased to a pounding in his forehead, so it felt like a heavy mallet hammered away at his skull, and unseen eyes were on him, he was sure. Waiting. Waiting. The voice and the eyes were paired. Where the fuck was it coming from? He flicked the flashlight to the sides, checking and rechecking the corridor, but there was nothing except a yawning black with pipes and water droplets pattering to the ground.

Sweat rolled into his eyes. Little Pig had sudden weight and had become burdensome, but if he set it aside, he would not pick it up again. A physical yoke had settled across his shoulders until his knees and leg muscles screamed in agony. Dammit all, he was going to collapse under the pressure of it, and he staggered drunkenly into the pipes, the metal parts on his shoulder scraping against them.

"Give in, Isaac," cooed the familiar, silken whisper. "Lay aside your weapon. Rest for a while."

The Marker's signal was a sharp, lancing pain that lashed white streaks across his vision. Wincing from it, Isaac set his jaw. "It's in your head, Clarke," he said. "It's in your fucking head. Ignore it."

"That won't do you any good," said the Marker. It manipulated its signal so that an orange haze cloaked his surroundings, swarmed his hearing with a high frequency screeching. Whatever it did hurt him, made his brain curdle inside his head. He clamped his hands to his head, to his ears to unhear the wretched whispers. "You're a part of it, don't you see? You've been brought into the fold."

Angrily, he stood his ground. "You can't control me."

"Just as you can't destroy me. I'm always inside you, Isaac. I'm always going to be -"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!" He screamed it until it drowned out the voice, the water drips, the oppressive silence in the tunnel, echoed into unseen cracks and crevices. The Marker had touched a cold finger on the very pulse of his fear, and he did not want to face that until he absolutely had to. For good measure, he swore, adding, "I won't fucking listen to you."

His heart thud in his ears, beat erratically in his throat. He realized he'd dropped Little Pig, so he picked that back up. Then he started moving again. Forced himself to move again. Stiffly, at first, so he commanded his feet and legs to obey, and counted his steps. Left. Right. Left. Right. Keep going. Keep moving. Right. Left. Right. Pick up speed, Clarke. Move your ass. Inside his head, the signal breathed, alive, and as much as he could, he edged around it. He shaped an image of Ellie in his mind, which occupied him as he cradled her head with his hands, touched the texture of her skin, tracked the slow smile across her lips. Keeping her picture behind his eyes calmed him and helped pass the time.

Loud, clamorous roars exploded at once around him- -he couldn't tell if it was coming from ahead or behind him- -and he released the hold on the t-kart, but then he changed his mind and picked it up again. The Marker would want him to stand and fight; movement was his best offense. Speed bred freedom from the Marker's potent effects, the action a release from the monotony. With shoving forward Little Pig, he could not break into a flat-out sprint.

He swung around a curve in the corridor. From the ceiling, three lurkers stared at him with open, undead hostility in their hot yellow eyes, their barbed tentacles squirming at face-level. "WHOA, SHIT!"

Little Pig clanked to the ground. With an agility of a man half his age, he dodged back around the curve, or rather, launched himself bodily and took the majority of his weight on his shoulder. He landed back flat to the pipes and sprawled on the pathway. Multiple missiles panged into metal, puncturing it so that water spewed out in white spray that soaked his visor. He backed up on his heads as several more missiles shot divots into the walls and ground. In the second that he hadn't returned fire, one had landed at his feet, a mouthful of fangs and a face blackened with disease, and it roared/hissed at him.

Too quick, the lurker lunged, the deadly barbs angled downward. Without anywhere to go, he tucked in his elbows and rolled for his escape. A thud, coupled with an infuriated scream, as he scrambled to get to his feet, but a small body pummeled him between his shoulder blades, knocking the breath from his lungs. Desperate for room, he threw himself into a somersault, which bucked off a second lurker. The monstrosity flew to the side- -slammed into the wall with a meaty _thwack_. Blindly, Isaac reached for his cutter and squeezed the trigger without aiming. Discharging with satisfying cracks, the plasma branded the lurker with lacerations that smoked and spurt miniature blood-fountains.

Above him, the third lurker had waited, the trap set, and fired a trio of missiles at him. Two missed. One nailed him in the midsection. Over the flare of pain, Isaac had the presence of mind to douse the general area with stasis. The three lurkers had grouped close enough together that one shot got all of them. Probably the single benefit garnered from the enclosed quarters. His stasis had enough duration that he managed to stomp the fucking things into the consistency of jelly, saving plasma. Breathless, he touched where the barb had dinged his sec-suit; the patch-job wouldn't hold up forever. Before much longer, he'd need a suit repair.

Distant in the labyrinth, Necromorphic thunder reminded him that he remained in a precarious position. Shit…he had to keep moving. He returned to Little Pig, lifted it, and started his trek anew until he came to an unobtrusive door marked "EQUIPMENT RESEARCH AND DESIGN". What sort of equipment would EarthGov be researching and designing here, in the middle of nowhere? Curiosity piqued, Isaac went up to the door, which had a locking mechanism that required him to have the appropriate clearance.

He hesitated. With the noisy flood crashing around him, his trusty plasma cutter would be ineffective against their sheer numbers, both here and when he would plant Little Pig. Three options were available: search around for an appropriate RIG; bypass the system; or move on. So far, the tunnels and halls had been largely unoccupied and he doubted he would easily find the correct RIG. For another second, he stood undecided, and then the temptation was too great. Ellie would murder him, but he rested Little Pig beside the door and inspected the pipeworks layered over thin, bolted panels.

It seemed that if he wanted to pry open the appropriate panel, he'd have to shut off the water valve. A system of multi-colored and varying-sized pipes spread out into an intricate web further along the tunnel where it broadened in width and height. After some guesswork, he figured out the correct shut-off lever to crank to gain access to the panels, and after prying away two or three, he found the correct wires to the lock and scanner. As his fingers peeled and twisted, he tried not to think how close the roars had gotten in the last few moments he'd remained in this area. They were practically breathing down his neck.

"C'mon, you piece of shit," he muttered when the two wires he'd spliced together had no effect. "What's the hold up?"

He forced back the rising worry, the press for time, and reexamined the wires in his fingers. Ah. _That_ was his mistake. Quickly, he pulled a couple other wires, and used a sure motion to connect everything together. This time, the door unlocked and opened for him so he could slip into the room beyond. For the first time since stepping foot in this hellhole, relief washed over him.

The chamber was wide open and lit starkly with overhead fluorescents. Several work tables and benches broke up the space, meticulously cleared of any extraneous parts and pieces except for a text log's orange glow. Lining the perimeter of the chamber were clear display cases, which when approached, appeared to hold militarized mining tools. Several other doors led to what seemed to be further laboratory facilities and some offices.

The text log was an invoice detailing an exchange between a Dr. Jaison Turner and Millicient Daniels. Daniels had evidently put pressure on Turner to complete the tests and streamlining of something called "Queen Bee". Someone called the Overseer had made a personal call on Daniels, and based on Daniels' tone, it had not been a pleasant conversation. Turner replied that the team was working as fast as possible, but that Queen Bee needed stabilization and couldn't be rushed. Interesting.

Isaac ran a hand over the cases, pausing occasionally to squint at the descriptive holographic tags for each. Almost immediately, he noticed one of the cases was empty- -no surprise it was the one marked Queen Bee- -but the description was still active. Something to do with 'ultrasonic handheld emitter', and he assumed it was a suit modification or attachment of some sort like kinesis or stasis. One that looked promising was called the Disintegrator, officially called the 2.5V TFMS Shotgun. The description elaborated on what TFMS stood for: triflic acid, which was a thousand times more damaging and corrosive than sulfuric acid and it seemed that this sort of acid was even more concentrated than that.

"Happy birthday to me," he said with a side smile. "I've wanted a new toy."

The lockpad was active and needed RIG clearance, so he thought he could do a rapid search through the offices. Might as well while he was there; perhaps he'd get lucky. If and when the Necromorphs penetrated the lab area, he'd leave. He accessed the door marked for the offices and after a short hall, came to a circular central area which was waiting room for the five offices. Offices two through three yielded nothing of value, but office four opened to a strict and neat room with a work area, microscopes, and a locker. Two chairs flanked the desk; for visitors he supposed.

"S-stop right there!" A high, strained feminine voice spoke with nervous authority behind him. "P-put up your hands! I'm warning you…no funny business!"

No funny business? Was she shitting him? "Okay, okay." He didn't know what she had trained on him, but he could give it a good guess. In surrender, he spread out his arms but did not toss aside the cutter. "I'm turning around."

Severe practicality leapt to color her description. She was average height, maybe late twenties with blue eyes strangely colored behind the practical eyeglasses; she wore a practical blue and white uniform. Her regular brown hair was in a ponytail at the crown of her head. Her features were unremarkable. From head to toe she trembled, and since her face was drained of color, he had a hunch it was fear. He saw that she had her hand outstretched in front of her, propped by her opposite forearm. Some type of device had opened on either side of the forearm aimed at him. In the quiet, he heard a gentle, mechanical hum.

"Drop what's in your hand," she told him, stuttering on her words. "Do it or I'll kill you! I'll do it!"

Isaac doubted she had the guts to murder him; her whole aura quivered like spineless gelatin. "What do you want me dead for?" he asked her to call her bluff. He let his arms relax to his sides and brushed his forefinger along the trigger's curve. His quick-draw skills had improved considerably since fighting Necromorphs. "You'll end up having to kill me a second time."

Her eyes popped open as if she hadn't expected that. "I said drop your weapon!"

"Lady, either kill me or put down _your _weapon. I don't have time for this," he replied.

Then, in dismissal, he stepped over to the fifth office door. Ellie's voice in his head told him he was reckless, but he'd been honest. He really _didn't _have time to putz around. The Necromorphs were out there hunting for him and he had a job to do besides. All he wanted was a weapon that could keep him alive in the meanwhile.

"DON'T GO IN THERE!" the woman yelled at him, but it was too late, he'd already tapped the button to the door.

Before the door even fully opened, a tall, shrieking black mass hurtled into him. Breath exploded from his lungs, but his body unconsciously reacted. He absorbed the hit and used the momentum to roll away. The Necromorph launched at him- -he could discern the razor scythes arched forward on tangled, elongated sinews- -and he was too close to miss with stasis. But the Necromorph (a spitter, he saw) sidestepped, dainty as a warped and diseased ballerina, so the slowing energy went wide. In a blink of an eye, it lurched at him again, and after the moment of blind panic, he squeezed the cutter's trigger without sighting first, and worse, in his off-hand. Once, twice, three times the plasma hissed on the cracked, running tissue. His aim was off, but the shots staggered back the spitter enough to give him room to hustle upwards.

The spitter shrieked, enraged, and with a sickly crackle and burst of gore, three long, whip-like tentacles spurted from its back. One of them lashed out, quick as a cobra strike, and reamed him across the chest so that he slammed into a holodisplay. The plastic crunched, shattered.

Already the tentacle had curled and tightened a hold around his neck, choking him with unbreakable firmness. The pressure was at the right angle and activated the bumper to put down his visor.

"Goddamn!" Wildly, Isaac brought up the cutter to shoot the tentacle at point blank range. The spitter anticipated him, catching his wrist with the second tentacle in a grip that reminded him he'd broken his arm. He wrestled it with his free hand, but the third tentacle pried his arm out. Hot embers glowed in its eyes over slavering mandibles that chomped at air. Rancid air clouded his head. Over the spitter's shoulder, the woman stood frozen in horror. "A little help here!"

Calling out had been a mistake. His lungs burned for oxygen as black narrowed his vision. He didn't even feel the tightness at his throat anymore. The spitter's human arms clasped at him, pinned him against the wall, his feet off the ground and kicking uselessly against the rotted monster. Fury seized him as he toed a huge, gaping hole into nothing, fury that he couldn't fight its pull and was too weak to fight it. Fury that he'd let down Ellie…

He was so sorry about everything.

Faint buzzing or a monotonous hum reached him, but he'd already been sucked into swirling darkness. Even here, he could not escape the Marker.

Pain seared straight through his brain, blinding him with white light as it exploded in his head. He was face to face with the Grey Marker. It was big, not quite as big as the Gold Marker, but big enough that it was an intimidating height, its twin horns piercing the sky. In the darkness, the cuneiform tattooed on the Marker's skin pulsed with glowing silver. A ghostly image stood in front of him; with the Red and Gold Markers, it had been Nicole, with this new one, it was his mother. She was unchanged since the last time he'd seen her, and she was as she had been when she'd been alive.

"Isaac," she sang in a whisper, "Isaac, there you are. _I've been looking for you_."

Her face contorted, blanched with terrible light as she screamed at him, her mouth open and her eyes empty of life. He felt the dead things crawling inside his head, under his skin, writhing to get out. He heard a child's laughter. Shrieks of terror resounded around him- -thousands of different voices- -paired with the sound of a thousand limbs scrabbling towards him. Something so evil, so malignant, thrummed through the air that it suffocated him, drowned him. He was utterly alone. Millions of tiny pricks jabbed into the soft tissue of his brain and he could sense no end to this hell, no relief.

The Marker's profane voice was all around, a child's whisper that echoed to his raw nerves. "You won't escape this time, Isaac."

And as suddenly as it gripped him, it released. Darkness surrounded him with the sensation of floating. It was so close to his mouth and nose, he felt as though an icy hand covered his face. Suffocating him. The quiet rang in his ears. He was very cold, freezing, and he shivered uncontrollably, as his body had no warmth left. A powerful headache clenched a fist underneath his forehead and at the base of his skull. He had no sense of time or direction.

"Isaac." Nicole's voice came to him. When she knelt over him, he realized he'd been prostrate, though he could not feel solid ground beneath him. "It's time to get up."

He resisted, but Nicole's warm hand stroked his cheek and he opened his eyes. Her smile was soft, forgiving, and emotion churned in his chest. He felt so _heavy,_ he was weak with it. Useless.

Nicole's fingers traced his brow. "You have to believe you can."

"I don't have anything left."

"It's too early to give everything up. _We _believe in you," she said, sweeping her hand in a gesture that encompassed all the men, women, and children that had been hidden away in the darkness. "The dead and the living believe in you. You must believe in yourself."

"I'm only a man. An _old _man," he amended. "And how many more are there? How many more Markers have to be destroyed?"

She shook her head. "Isaac, the Markers have held onto a secret, a secret that will be revealed to you very soon. Once the Grey Marker is destroyed, you'll have time."

"Time for what? What secret?"

"Trust me." Her fingers pressed his lips. "Destroy the Grey Marker. You _can _do this. You must."

Her image distorted before completely fading away. He awoke then, disorientated, crushed under a carcass and wheezing. Something constricted his throat. He struggled, but could not move. Tentacles had tangled in loops and knots around his limbs, and a plain woman with a brunette ponytail tore away the tentacle from his neck. He'd forgotten entirely who she was and what she was doing.

"I can't believe you're still alive," she said, jerking free the limp flesh. "That scared me shitless!"

Isaac said nothing, his breath catching, but accepted her help as she shoved off the Necromorph to hoist him up. Blood had splattered a coat on his suit; her uniform had large blood spots as well. Vaguely, he recollected that she'd been an enemy, maybe, but he definitely didn't trust her. His memories fluttered and flew through his fingers. He couldn't get a grasp on anything real after the Marker had shredded into his mind except the cutting numbness inside him. A hammer's blow thudded dully on the inside of his skull. From a distance, he accepted his plasma cutter from her when she handed it to him.

She noticed his long silence. "Hey? Are you okay?"

He nodded. But really, he wasn't.

"You look a little shaky," she said, anyway. She tugged his arm. "You better sit down for a moment."

In his dazed state, he let her guide him to a bench near a destroyed holopanel that hung by wires from the wall. He kept his plasma cutter in his hand, and she didn't seem inclined to tell him to set it aside. He remembered her initial hostility. What had changed? As he sat, he thought that if anyone needed a seat, it was her. She was as jittery as before, her complexion wan in the lights. Some time passed in silence as Isaac gathered his wits enough to form coherent words.

"Who are you?"

"I-I'm Ivy. Ivy Bowden. I work…worked as a lab assistant to Dr. Turner." She swallowed and nodded her head to the gory mess of a Necromorph that lay in an oozing black puddle. Chunks had blown off across the waiting area, smearing along the otherwise pristine floor. "That's…that was Dr. Turner. We wanted to safeguard the weapons when the Unitologists launched their attack. All the R-Sec was deployed to other parts of the station, but we remained."

Her shaky fingers brushed a lock of hair back and in the same movement, she tapped her glasses to the bridge of her nose. "Then Dr. Turner…started seeing things. Talking. Acting…strange. She went into her office and told me to stay out. I stayed in my office trying to radio for help, and when I came back, I heard…noises on the other side. I was too afraid to open the door."

"Why did you…? You were set to kill me."

Her face crumpled; she shrugged. "I don't know. Logically I know who you are and what you've done. I have a duty to arrest you, to protect the research. But…you…called out to me. It wasn't out loud. It was…almost like you…I don't know. I felt pain. Grief. Sadness." She peeked at him from the corner of her eye. "And then I understood. I just…I understood your purpose."

"I'm destroying that Marker," he told her so they were clear. "I don't care about research."

"I think"- -she rested her head back and in that moment, her trembling eased- -"I think that I'm meant to help you."

"You can start by letting me use Turner's RIG to open one of those display cases." He'd see in short order if she was serious about helping him. "I need a better weapon."

Ivy stood. "I have clearance. In exchange, I want to know your plan."

"The plan is to destroy the Marker," he replied curtly as he continued to mistrust her. "That's all there is."

She issued an admonishing look over her glasses, but said nothing in return as she led him through the office hall to the main laboratory area. He went to and patted the display case that had the shotgun on steroids, which she opened without another word. Reverently, he lifted it from its tines and ogled the shiny, unmarred stock and barrel. The design of the shotgun was rectangular and squat, without any extra length. It had a built-in flashlight on the top of it and a pump under it.

"Here's the stockpile of ammo." Ivy had stepped to another locked cabinet that opened when she stood in front of it. Dozens of drawers lined the cabinet and she indicated the correct one. The ammo was in clips- -not the circular design for incendiary rounds- -but rectangular cartridges. He went across to her and cleaned out the cabinet of ammo, shoving the clips wherever they could fit into the pockets of his suit.

When he brought the stock to his shoulder, she said, "Please be careful with that. It's a new design."

It had weight, but wasn't heavy enough to slow him. After a moment, he figured out how to load the cartridge at the butt of the gun and release the safety. "I'll be gentle as a lamb. Is it pump-action?"

"You can toggle a switch, but it's designed to be automatic. You'll have to pump it once to load the chamber."

"Beautiful." He looked up to see that she had used TK on the cabinet to tug it aside. "What're you doing?"

She didn't stop until she'd revealed a suit kiosk behind the cabinet. "It's not a guarantee that you'll avoid the acid. And trust me. You'll want to avoid the acid. We designed a special suit that can withstand any backsplash that may occur." Only then did she give him a good appraisal from head to toe. "Your suit looks very damaged. It might be a wise idea to upgrade. Besides, the suit will have a holster for the shotgun."

When he stood, gazing at her without saying anything, she tilted her head and squinted her eyes, confused. "What's the look for?"

"I'm not leaving you out here unattended."

Her confusion deepened. "I don't understand."

"I don't trust you. As tempting as that new suit is, you're not getting me into that suit kiosk." He straightened. "I can't risk giving you the opportunity to stab me in the back."

"I…I saved your life."

"After threatening it in the first place."

They stood for a moment, silently assessing each other at the impasse. Then Ivy huffed and reached into a pouch that hung on the belt of her uniform. "Fine. Tie me up if you want." She tossed over some plastic ties, which scattered on the tabletop between them.

He had reached over to take one when the laboratory shut down into automatic bio-containment complete with wailing siren and red lights.

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**A/N:** Thanks to everyone for being patient and not peppering me with snarky messages. I appreciate the time you gave me to sort out my life and I hope that the rest of this story is enjoyable. Next chapter will be posted June 1st. Let's finish this bitch, shall we?


	36. Run the Gauntlet

**A/N: **Welcome back dear readers and lurkers! Hope you're staying cool and shaded as temperatures rise. Please enjoy.

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**Chapter Thirty-six: Run the Gauntlet**

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Sirens drilled into his battered head. More than that, the sharp, repetitive whine pierced into his lungs and heart. Isaac went around the table and grabbed Ivy by her arm to haul her bodily to the suit kiosk, where he shoved her in and tapped the selection button. It locked closed. The surprise, combined with his strength, overruled any protest she may have had.

The audio crackled alive in his ear as he waited for the Necromorphs to burst into the lab. "Isaac! What're you doing? I can help!"

"I don't need you in the way," he told her. He pumped the shotgun- -it gave a satisfying _shashuk._ "Stay in there."

And he didn't trust her in a firefight when she'd proven unreliable against one single Necromorph. He'd been itching to shoot off a round, so he did at a vent grate across the lab. The shotgun bit into his shoulder, the sharp blast punctuating the sirens' wail. At first, nothing happened and he thought he'd missed or that the shell had been a dud. But a hiss rose as the thin metal slats shrank, melted and were eaten clean away. Wherever the acid had concentrated, a huge hole gaped, yawning open as the acid disintegrated the metal, plastic, and wiring.

A screaming roar preceded the arrival of three, four, five advanced slashers that barreled through the new and enormous hole in the wall. Isaac aimed the shottie at the center mass and fired off another round. The five slashers were close enough in range that the blast knocked them clean off their feet. Then the acid activated. He'd seen some shit in the last few years of his life, but the acid reacting with the diseased skin and viral growth was like nothing he'd ever seen before.

The two lead slashers never got to their feet. Instead, they writhed and screamed on the floor as the acid dissolved their soft tissue, exposing and then…_melting_…the ugly, fleshy mass of tangled innards, to bone and spinal column, and left separate pieces of their outermost extremities. Blood had seeped to the floor in a slick, goopy pool. It was as if someone had cut off the hands, feet, and head of the things and set them aside from the torso.

Three of the slashers had been indirectly hit. They struggled to their feet, grappling toward him with their overlarge blades, but the acid was too concentrated, too corrosive. Even the small quantity devastated the Necromorphs' rotted, mottled skin and muscle. The acid ate into their lethal bodies, deteriorated their composition enough that their top halves separated from their bottom halves as they closed in on him. It would've been hysterical- -the Necromorphs swinging toward him, everything pumping and running smoothly, and then in one instant, the arms and chest and head altogether fly in one direction as the legs dash in another.

Half a Necromorph was still as dangerous as a whole one, so Isaac used stasis on the mobile halves of the three slashers. With help from adrenaline, he stomped on the bladed appendages until they split and cracked off, rendering the slashers 'dead'. Gore and dark slurry soaked his boots and his suit up to his knees. Disgusting.

After that short encounter, the lockdown cut off. The world fell to silence. Behind him, the suit kiosk clattered open. "Let's go," he said without facing her. "We've overstayed our welcome."

Ivy said nothing, but he heard her follow him. Her footsteps clunked along, an echo of his own steps, and out into the corridor that would take them to the aqueduct. She would at some point figure out what the details of his plan would be. That, and he realized sooner or later, he'd have to decide if she was worthwhile enough to risk taking her aboard _Retribution_.

All that worry shrank from a different type of worry, when he looked askance for Little Pig and couldn't find it. Had…had he set it in another spot? No. No. He remembered distinctly that he'd placed Little Pig to the left of these pipes, which ran beside the door. He'd gone to the valves to crank off the water, came back, and had removed the panels that housed the wiring. Confused and, worse, anxious, he squatted to the damp ground to examine the spot where he knew he'd set Little Pig.

"What's wrong?" Ivy asked.

He didn't reply, his mind swarmed with paranoia and questions. On his return trip, had he seen the bomb? Yes. No. He couldn't be sure. But…who would've taken it? Ivy? Suspicion was there and too easy to stoke. He glanced at her. She stood a meter or two separate from him, watching on with a line between her brows.

"How long was I out?" he asked her.

"Less than a minute," she replied. She adjusted a strap on her forearm. "You came around almost immediately afterwards." In the ripe pause that followed, something inside of her drew a conclusion and her look darkened. "Wait…you don't think that…what exactly are you accusing me of?"

"Before I went into that lab, there was a device…right…there…"

When he gestured aside, his vision slewed sideways- -distorted and awash in orange haze- -and the spot he'd been sure had been absent of Little Pig, was now occupied with the device. A cluster of nerves pulsed behind his eye and his vision cleared. Little Pig didn't disappear again. Unsure if he was seeing things, he reached out a tentative hand and brushed a sharp edge. Why hadn't he seen it? What was happening to him?

Ivy noticed his cringe, and hesitantly, she stepped to him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He faced her. "We have to get to this sector's aqueduct. Do you know the way?"

"Yes. I can get us there."

"I want you to lead. I'll follow with the device. We have to take the shortest, fastest route," he said, rubbing his temple as his headache continued to bully him. "If you're going to help me, that's how you're going to do it."

"So you still won't tell me what all this is about?"

"Maybe," he told her with a smirk despite his pain and suspicions. "We'll see."

Her lips tightened into a line, but she flicked her ponytail over her shoulder and activated her visor, which was a large rectangular piece with white light. Her suit made her seem even more mannish, squaring out her shoulders and adding weight to her torso and legs. The suit was grey with silver and white inlay and accent, and various emblems decorated the shoulders and chest panels. Pockets and small pouches hung at her hips, and various tools were sewn into the suit's fabric. The suit had flashlights attached to the helmet, which she toggled on.

When Isaac turned his back to pick up Little Pig, he opened a private audiolink to Trey and quickly relayed in harsh whispers news of his new 'friend' and suspicions; however the link was sporadic, sizzling with static and broken, so he wasn't sure if Trey understood. With his guard up, Isaac lifted Little Pig and began trailing after Ivy, who'd moved a few meters further along the corridor. As they rushed, they didn't speak. It was just as well since roars and screams were ever present in the deep bowels of the underground corridors. Everything looked the same, dark and dank with very few indications of Marker activity.

At long last, they reached what looked to be a main connection to the aqueduct. Quiet had descended in this area, and soft noises reached his ears. They weren't the kind of noises that he associated with Necromorphs, but he put aside Little Pig to free up his hands. Ivy had stopped ahead of him at a doorway that opened into more darkness. The door itself was jammed half into its frame. Immediately outside the doorway was sheer straight down into the gut of the aqueduct where a languid tentacle, thick and sluggish, lay like a living root. A ring of yellow infection peeked from the jagged hole in the wall where the tentacle had forced its way through. Sparse emergency lights leaked illumination over the length and width of it.

"Wh-what's that?" she whispered.

"The thing I'm here to exterminate," he told her. He crouched at the edge. Ponderously, he flicked a little piece of metal into the distance below. It clanked to the ground long seconds later and distant. "We gotta get down somehow." Struts jutted out where the decking had been shorn clean off. If he'd known he'd have to scale walls, he'd have kept the kinesis tether.

Ivy shifted beside him. "We could shut off the gravity."

"Yeah?"

She took a deep breath. "The aqueducts operate on separate grav generators. We can backtrack to the controls, disable it, and come back."

"Let's go."

Ivy led again as he followed with Little Pig. This close to the finish line, he didn't want to risk leaving it behind and being unable to get to it. He worried at the dark emptiness of the corridors, the lack of Necromorph presence. As he thought on it, an unsettling pain burst through the synapses of his brain; it was everywhere and so deep it was if each nerve had been simultaneously and cruelly pinched. Fireworks rocketed across his vision and when he came to, he was no longer in the corridor but standing on a vast plane that was white in every direction.

An impulse to walk took him, so he began. He had no pain, only the continuous throb in his right eye. Snow blurred across the air, crunched under his feet, and he felt a thread of sweat roll between his shoulder blades despite the cold snap in the air. He wasn't really there. He knew this and knew that this was a hallucination brought on from the Marker fucking around with his head, but the experience wasn't lessened. He was _there _wherever there was and would be until the Marker released him, or until he figured out how to force the Marker to let him go.

Time was meaningless. Hours or days or perhaps minutes or seconds had passed. He didn't know. His chronometer blinked dashes across the display. The white and cold and snow and flatness were perpetual. He was neither hungry nor thirsty nor tired. He had questions, though. What was this place? What was the Marker showing him? Was it the Marker? Why now? And sandwiched between those good questions, why me?

Then he'd taken one step too many. A great presence made itself known, something more massive and more evil than any of the Markers combined. The presence of the Markers made him queasy with panic, shook him up, but the Markers were small potatoes compared to whatever was on this plane, and the rising panic set his heart tripping in his chest. His terror of it, the chilling horror that wrapped around him, froze him stiff, and even though he silently screamed at himself to run, that there was no hope in fighting it, he couldn't move. Couldn't…couldn't resist.

The presence telegraphed a signal to him, didn't speak, but made him think it, made him _feel _it.

_You will be consumed and made whole. You are already a part of us. Make us whole. Make us whole._ _Make us whole…_over and over and over until his body vibrated with the signal, the blood and muscles and skin reflecting an electrical charge that multiplied with strength. He wasn't himself, but more, a hundred-million fractured thoughts and images of people and creatures and places, so much of it that he couldn't comprehend. But he was a part of it. A part of that evil presence. A part of the whole…

Rumbling started under his feet and the white landscape and white horizon and white sky shattered to pieces as the blizzard ripped the picture away, tore the reality from him until everything was dark and enclosed and small white lights shone on him in triplicate. He was flat on his back and disoriented and an emptiness, a hopelessness, dug into him with tangible nails. There was only that numbing presence, the aftertaste of it inside him. He didn't want to think about it.

He was helped to his feet. Vaguely, he accepted the shotgun that was shoved into his chest. The three lights flicked around him and they were all he could see. Who was he? He was torn between two inexplicable forces. Nicole and the dead on one side; the overwhelming evil on the other. The scale of these forces was too…incomprehensible. It didn't register for him. He was a man of logic and reason and what he could touch and see, but that source of understanding had been pitched out the window a long time ago on the _Ishimura._ So what did he have left? Did that mean he was well and truly insane? Was this happening in his head, in his imagination, or were these forces in reality at work against each other?

And what effect would a man have on both of them?

"Isaac, you must be strong." Nicole's face took shape in the lights and she had him by the shoulders and shook him. "It is a part of you but it doesn't control you. It _can't_ control you."

"I don't understand…I can't…"

Her eyes had faith in him. "Your path is a dark one. It is a difficult one. But it is one that must be crossed. And it's you who must do it. No one else possesses the strength that you do. It's you who was chosen to carry this burden."

A tingle started where she had gripped his shoulders and it spread, grew in power and warmth. He closed his eyes to steady himself against the future. His 'dark path' would take him to ruin. That much was obvious. But who else would be caught in that ruin? Could he prevent Ellie from falling to it? He opened his eyes. Felt lost and alone and desperate to be free. Noisy ruckus rang around him, separating him from the quiet of Nicole's presence, and he tucked the shotgun to his shoulder as yellow pinpricks blinked awake in the near darkness.

"What do we do? They've surrounded us." Ivy's voice was high pitched over the link. "What do we do?"

He curled his finger around the trigger. One thing was crystal clear. If he wanted answers, he'd have to survive. "We fight."

What happened next was difficult to track. Roars thundered around them, shrieks and screams and hisses, and the sick stench of dead flesh. Wave after wave of Necromorphs bore down on them, the variety across the gamut, until they became shapes and body parts and nothing more. Ivy's Queen Bee impacted the Necromorphs unlike any weapon Isaac experienced. The hum of it was the single indication that it was on. She would raise her hand, palm outward, the air would compress- -or would feel compressed- -and the Necromorphs would stop stock still, their bodies would stiffen, and a second later, they would crumple to the floor to remain there unmoving without dismemberment in a heap. It was obviously a weapon that had been designed for maximum efficiency against Necromorphs.

That was all he could study of it at the moment. Blades and bodies and flesh swarmed around the two living survivors, but thanks to technology and a swift trigger-finger, the Necromorphs were cut down in bloody swaths, feet, arms, hands, and heads scattered in the narrow confines of the corridors. The shotgun was slower to shoot than a pulse rifle or plasma cutter, but the damage it did was catastrophic. It pared down the large quantity of Necromorphs before they could slip in for the kill, and furthermore, melted craters in the floor that tripped up the Necromorphs so that they fell and could not immediately get up. He and Ivy managed the attack and Little Pig as if they'd been working side by side the whole of their lives and somehow caught a break at gravity control in one of those anonymous rooms.

"I've got this," she told him. "If you'll watch my back?"

He nodded and stood beside where he'd set Little Pig, glancing around for vents. Though the Necromorphs had pressed them into this area, he and Ivy had put at least one or two walls between them. Knowing the Necromorphs as he did, it was a matter of time before they breached the temporary safety of the station. Whatever they had to do to get the gravity offline, it had to be fast.

The RIG opened a hololink in front of him, and he didn't realize how on edge he was when he jumped from it. It was Kaassen. Quickly, Isaac switched the hololink to private audio.

"Clarke," the old man said, "I'm returning to the last bomb. Hostiles are everywhere and high in numbers." He stated this as if he was commenting on airspace traffic. "Are you available to provide back up?"

"We've had some complications. I don't know if Trey told you, but I'm with a survivor. She…works for Oracle." Isaac glanced at Ivy, who tapped furiously at the console. She paid him no attention. "She's been trustworthy so far, but she concerns me. We're working on putting in place Little Pig."

"What's your ETA?"

"I don't know. It's a matter of setting up the bomb without getting killed doing it."

Over the audio, Isaac felt the scowl emanate from Kaassen. "I'll wait as long as I can. Radio me when you're en route. Kaassen, out."

Isaac waited behind Ivy, and a moment later, she pulled away from the console. "There. The aqueduct is now zero-g. Um. How're we going to get back?"

After a moment's thought, he said, "Same way we came."

She accepted his reply and nodded for him to precede her. As Isaac stepped to the door, the flood of raucous noise ebbed until it went silent. He touched the emblem set on the metal but did not open the door. "Did you hear that?"

"It went quiet," Ivy answered, confirming what he'd already thought. "Why would they…why would they do that?"

"My guess is they're setting up an ambush." He grimaced. "We don't have a choice. We have to keep going."

Together they left through the door to retrace their steps. A trail of gore spread in front of them- -puddles of goo and body parts, and whole bodies that they had to skirt which clogged the narrow corridors. Ivy caught her foot on a limb that jutted out and nearly fell, but braced herself on the wall. Awkwardly, Isaac helped to extricate her foot from the tangle and without further incident, they arrived to the open door that overlooked the gutted aqueduct. Trash, corpses, and various loose items cluttered the space between them and the base of the tentacle. The tentacle, no longer burdened under its own weight, curled and stretched with ease.

Isaac gestured. "See that yellow ring, near the hole?" Ivy nodded her head and he continued, "That's where we plant Little Pig. You ready?"

She nodded her head. He positioned his feet to unlock the magnetic clamps and after a short hiss, he floated. His sec-suit had a safety hook which he threaded out and attached to Little Pig. Ivy maneuvered beside him, her bright lights flashing around in the darkness. The whole aqueduct was suspiciously quiet and shadowy over cracks and crevices. His Marker-sense didn't relay a warning, but in a way, he already knew that the Marker had called the Necromorphs to this area for a showdown.

Where they had entered was at the far end of the aqueduct from where the tentacle had forced through the wall. With the zero-g, the tentacle had free rein in the ample spaciousness and could reach- -and thereby crush- -anywhere in the aqueduct. Except maybe along a ridge that ran the length of the ceiling…it looked like it was remnants of when the station had been originally built, and large tracks had been used to put into place the sections of the aqueduct. With the tentacle as big as it was, the ridge could provide some protection from the flailing mass of flesh.

"We'll walk along the ceiling. Try to hug that track," he told Ivy. She didn't respond, but followed as he flew across the open space to clamp on the smooth metal up against the ridge. "With any luck, it won't notice we're here.

They had progressed a quarter of the length to the tentacle's base without trouble. Then the tentacle shifted and slammed into the sides of the aqueduct. Metal rattled and dented, groaned against the strength in that tentacle as sturdy panels crinkled under the weight of the impact. Isaac had nestled his back flat along the protective track wall. Ivy was beside him, her arms flung out to grip any nook or cranny she could get her fingers into. It seemed to avoid them, but had ripped off several swaths from the walls and batted the pieces into areas further than Isaac could see. When the low bellows and expressive roars rolled over him, he understood the purpose.

Scattered, flickered shadows from the sides drew his attention. Necromorphs charged out of the fresh openings, those that could move fluidly in zero-g and some that would try regardless. Lurkers, leapers, infectors, and some odd flying-brain creatures with tails that Isaac had never seen before and spitters with the additional tentacles poured forth. There were plenty of angles to attack, and if he and Ivy stood and fought, they would be swallowed in the tidal wave of Necromorphs.

"Those things are getting closer!" Ivy's panic trembled her voice.

"Don't stop, keep going!" he called back, but he knew running the rest of the way would kill them.

Already the infectors had fanned out to the corpses that hung, suspended, in far corners, but the flying brains…they swooped like scavengers, closer and closer, close enough that Isaac could see the tail's barbed tip. The Necromorphs that couldn't fly launched forward to the survivors, sailing over the distance with terrifying swiftness.

"SHIT, LOOK OUT!"

He already detached the magnetic clamps and coiled his muscles. When Ivy's warning came, he sprang with as much force as he could muster. Smoothly, he glided along, low to the riveted metal. Cacophony roared at them from every angle. Isaac concentrated on the flying things that swooped over them, flaps of regrown skin beating the air and tails thrashing around.

He rolled to face the grouping of flyers and brought the shotgun to his shoulder. Several flyers dove at him, at least five or six, but Isaac aimed for the middle one and squeezed the trigger. Even as the flyers scattered, holes had flecked the wings, widening until they gaped. The flyers careened, squalling, into the sides of the aqueduct or collapsed in midair, a sack of formless, unmoving flesh. Blood and fluid had sprayed a fine mist in the air or had leaked a trail of solid red bubbles.

Ivy had mimicked his trick and sailed through the air a meter or two behind him. She used Queen Bee on any flyer that neared, and she, too, used her suits boosters to amp up her speed. Though they had cleared the cloud of flyers, the other Necromorphs chased after them, using their spiked and barbed limbs to cover the distance.

"There's no way we'll make it!" Ivy called. "We have to get out of here!"

"Not without planting and arming the bomb, first," he said, more to himself than to Ivy. Louder, he said, "It won't take long. We just have to get there. Keep your boosters on!"

No sooner had he said that then a compact ball of greenish brown matter whizzed past his head and splattered apart on the metal behind him. A cloud of low thumps surrounded him, and as the acid activated, it angrily sizzled as it weakened the metal. Bowling ball sized dents were scattered around them. The spitters weren't anywhere near, but were an uneven rank behind the fast-moving leapers and lurkers that crawled and raced up the wall space. He watched, horrified, as the spitters paused, and even from the distance he was at, Isaac could see their abdominal organs and tissues squeeze, the little dangling arms separating the mass so that the acidic ball could be shot.

Another volley soared at them. With that number of acidic balls raining down, they would be pelted, slowed, and swarmed. Unless they had some cover…

"Over the wall!" he said to Ivy.

Abruptly, he swiveled to switched direction. The bomb attached to him continued on forward momentum and it jerked around when he moved and clanked into the wall. Ivy was far enough behind him that she saw what he'd done. Together, they vaulted over the protective ridge. More thumps resonated as the acid balls hit. And that was when the first of the Necromorphs landed in a contingent between them and the tentacle's base. There was a mix of lurkers and leapers. They hissed and shrieked, disgusting bodies leaving smears of fluid where they crouched, and there was a moment between them and action.

Then Ivy pushed him aside and gestured her arm, sweeping it to encompass the entire cluster of Necromorphs. Queen Bee hummed the air, unseen waves vibrating into the targets, and a second later the limp bodies wafted up. Ribbons of fluid and blood had spurted from the Necromorphs in their death throes. It disconcerted Isaac to bump into _whole _Necromorphs, but they had to keep going and finally, they were at the base of the tentacle. Up close, it was even more nauseating. Under the thin membrane, the infected fluid pulsed and where the infection ended, were open and oozing sores.

Isaac chose to plant Little Pig to the side of the jagged metal hole, aligning it with the yellow ring. He and Trey had had the foresight to weld raw magnets to the bottom and so the device sat still where it was planted. Behind him, he heard Queen Bee buzzing as Ivy fended off the continuous attack. The shrieks and howls rattled around them and he could barely hear himself think.

"Whatever you're doing, do it faster," Ivy told him. "Queen Bee's almost done for."

He lifted the protective shutter that housed the remote activation toggle and flipped it. Little Pig powered up. As he stepped away, a blackened mass plowed into him, tackling him off his feet. He grunted as air exploded from his lungs. Two clawed arms grappled his shoulders painfully as the momentum carried him and the leaper from solid ground. His shotgun was sandwiched between their bodies and as he struggled to free it, he and the leaper rolled in midair. The scorpion-like tail swung, but the leaper hadn't pinned him and so the barb went wide. It screamed at him and tried to skewer him a second time, but missed again.

Over the chomping mandibles and evil glowing eyes, Isaac noticed a spitter had sprinted forward and lobbed acid at him. Desperate, he used his stabilizers to shift position and blocked the acid gob with the leaper's body. It screamed, convulsed, and let him go. He quick-drew the shotgun and with one blast, blew the spitter back to hell.

"ISAAC!"

Ivy's shout diverted his attention to her position, where she flew toward him, lurkers hot on her heels, some flicking missiles her way, others bounding after her along the walls or using broken debris as platforms. The thick grouping of Necromorphs gave him plenty to aim for, and with a couple shots, he pared down their numbers so that he and Ivy could get some breathing room. It wasn't enough. Up ahead was a gouged-out section of the aqueduct where they would hopefully find their escape.

"Use your boosters!" Isaac called to Ivy.

His suit juiced power to the boosters and he picked up speed. Ivy drew up beside him. Over the bloodthirsty roars thick in the air and the constant force of the suit boosters, Isaac heard a low rumble. He didn't know what it was, but then the anguished cry of bent and torn metal cut through as the tentacle dragged its massive weight across the panels up and down the sides of the aqueduct. It lashed at them, an inevitable rope malevolent in design and size. Isaac pressed his boosters harder, but they were already at maximum burn and he didn't know if he was going to make it.

Ivy's muffled scream came as the tentacle descended, a presence that had physical weight even in zero-g, and he winced with the anticipation of being slammed into death. When he didn't feel pain or hear anything, he opened his eyes. The world collided with him, went dark and enclosed, and then he tumbled to a halt, ricocheting off smooth stone wall and steel support beams until he collapsed in a heap in a corner. Stunned, Isaac didn't move.

How did he live through that? Ivy floated closer to the hole they had eked through and didn't respond when he hailed her. They were still in zero-g. The tentacle had laid bare a parallel hall that led up to a closed door. Isaac grabbed Ivy by the waist and maneuvered to the door, which opened into an untouched corridor. When the door closed, the gravity returned and he had to rest Ivy on the floor.

"Marker team? Marker team, do you copy?" The comm crackled with static and went clear. He hoped the open channel would reach everyone. "Marker team? You there?"

"We hear you, Clarke," replied Trey. "We were getting worried."

Isaac struggled to avoid panting over audio. "Little Pig's been planted and I'm returning for the last bomb. The Major was en route last time we talked. Have you heard from him?"

"I'm still kicking, Clarke," replied a gruff voice. The Major grunted. "It's about time you finished your job."

"Yeah, I'm on my way." From behind him erupted the telltale roars. "Fuck, it never ends. I gotta move. We'll contact you when the last bomb is ready. Stay safe."

"You, too," Trey said. "We're holding the fort for you."

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**A/N:** If you can't tell, my foot's on the accelerator and it's to the floor. Hope that was a good ride for all of you...there's more to come. Next chapter will be posted June 8th. See you then!


	37. Last One's a Rotten Egg

**A/N: **And welcome to another chapter of "Reconciliation", dear readers. I'm excited to say that we're in the final run of the story. Please enjoy!

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**Chapter Thirty-seven: Last One's a Rotten Egg**

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After he signed off, Isaac shook Ivy awake from her stupor. She groaned. "What happened?"

"We lived," he said, helping her to her feet. The roars from the Necromorphs were practically outside the door. "I've got one last job to do before we can get the hell off this station. You game?"

"Oh, I have a choice now, do I?" she replied. Her snark took him off guard, but she relented by saying, "I'll help you the best I can. Where to from here?"

"We left the last explosive at the water control station."

"That's a long way to go," she said. "There's an access gondola we can use to shorten our trip, if it still works. Follow me."

He hesitated, tracking her yellowed health meter to a shadowy junction, until she turned and waved him. "Aren't you coming?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

He caught up, and then kept close behind her through the byways of the aqueduct, wondering why he didn't ask her more questions. From her, he sensed her true belief that she was there to help him. He couldn't explain the trust he had in her. As much as he wanted to mistrust her, and as much as he expected a stab in the back, he couldn't get himself to believe she was out to get him. A connection had been birthed between them, one that had started out as necessity, but had abruptly become a partnership of sorts. He implicitly knew he could trust her; she wasn't going to betray him or his people.

The cynical side couldn't be quiet about it, though. He _knew_? He knew nothing for sure anymore. What was the matter with him? Had he not learned his lesson from Stross or Kendra? And wasn't Ivy employed by Oracle? Oracle, that seemed to have mysterious medical records dating back centuries and a special interest in Necromorphs? What did he know about Ivy that he could place precious trust in her?

Without warning, a cool weight rested on his chest, _under _the sec-suit, and it felt like the St. Christopher's medallion had swung against the skin. Startled, he stopped to look. His suit was damaged, nicked and dinged, but his patched chest-plate was free of anything dangling. Yet the sensation of weight remained. He'd given the medallion to Ellie, right? She hadn't wanted it, but she still took it. He had to check.

"Ellie? Ellie, can you hear me?" he asked over audio. It sparked, but connected.

"Yeah, Isaac, I'm listening. Is everything alright?"

"Do you have the medallion I gave you?"

"What?" She sounded surprised and a little like he was insane, as if that was a change from the usual. "The medallion? Yeah, I'm…it's right here around my neck. Why? What's going on?"

"It's not…doing anything?"

Now she laughed, but it was nervous. "Isaac, what're you on about? You're not trying to tease me, are you?

"Ellie, please. Answer the question."

She paused to sigh. "No, it's not 'doing anything'. You must be losing your mind."

"Okay, sorry. Thanks," he said and signed off. He was insane. He _must _be.

The Marker had to be messing with him again. That was it. But like all other times, no matter how much he told himself the cool weight didn't exist, it persisted. And, worse, it didn't stay cool for long, but instead warmed and spread, infusing rays into his beating heart with such radiance that Isaac pressed a palm there, sure that acid was eating through his suit's defenses. Nothing was there. Nor was pain. Unlike the connection to the Marker through his eye, _this _connection was…calming. Like belief in goodness. Confidence.

Ivy had noticed him and stood in front of him. "Isaac? Are you okay?"

The warmth seemed to tell him that he could trust her and the plague of disparaging thoughts diminished. It was okay. He didn't know how, but it would be okay to trust her.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Keep going. I'm right behind you."

She withdrew, albeit hesitantly, but when he followed on her heels, she picked up speed. She didn't question him further; the sensation faded, but his belief that she would be true to him remained, his cynicism silenced. Ivy brought them unmolested to an open gondola, which had a slender track that disappeared into a dim distance. Gondolas made him uncomfortable.

"How far will it take us?" he asked. He stepped in beside Ivy at the control panel. There were two directions: forward and backward.

She tapped the forward button. "Nearly to the control station."

The gondola powered up and lurched into a rapid clip along the track. Lights in the belly of the track ticked past one per second in an even rhythm. Isaac gripped the siderail and tried not to imagine the sway of the carriage as it whipped along at a ridiculous speed.

The gondola glided to a smooth stop at another deck to allow the passengers to disembark. Isaac did so gladly. After that, he oriented himself and came to the control station without further incident. They had left the Necromorphs far behind, but he was sure that once they neared the final tentacle, they would face more resistance. Waiting on a chair, incendiary gun in hand, was the Major. His armor was splattered, dented, and a few spots had been singed from flame. At his feet was the last explosive, unmarred, "Fiver" in pretty script on the side of it.

"Major," Isaac greeted as he entered the room. In that moment, they all disengaged their visors.

Kaassen surged to his feet. "Just in time. I was gettin itchy. Who's the new recruit?"

"Ivy Bowden," Ivy said and offered her hand, but the Major ignored it until she let her arm relax. "I work…worked for a weapons research firm. You're actually using some of our tech." She gestured to the Major's shotgun. "That's one of ours. One of our more successful designs."

Kaassen hugged the weapon close, his eyes fixed Ivy's arm- -on Queen Bee. "I grabbed this offa Oracle flunky. Do you work for Oracle, miss?" The tone sounded razor sharp with danger.

Ivy glanced at Isaac, and he felt compelled to intervene. "Oracle has close ties with many companies. Major, we really need to move. We've stirred up a hornet's nest with planting the bombs and it won't be long 'till the Necromorphs find us."

The old man's eyes shifted to Isaac and they entered a moment where Isaac felt a fight on the inside of Kaassen. There was a sense of disturbance where the Marker had poked into dark memories and left whispers and dire suggestions, images of a distant past that hurt and disillusioned. At Isaac's chest, a weight rested- -a weight that was the size and shape of a medallion- -and it warmed through his skin. The same feeling he had when he debated Ivy's loyalty. Thankfully, Kaassen let the matter drop, acquiescing to Isaac with a slight nod, and they activated their visors once more. It was decided almost immediately that Ivy would carry Fiver. Kaasen would lead and Isaac would bring up the rear.

The three of them were all business when they turned into the proper corridor. The corridor shunted to the side and into a darkened area. Here, the area widened to accommodate three thick tracks that were composed of three slim rails each. The tracks were pinned into the ground and curved into the same shaft. Mechanized carts lay toppled at points on the tracks, and when Isaac stooped to brush the black mineral dust from one, he saw they had been abandoned for some time. The company with that logo had been defunct for at least fifty years. Rust had even collected around the unused joints.

"Well, shit," said Kaassen over their open link. He was up ahead with Ivy beside him. She'd set down Fiver near where they'd entered. "Clarke, c'mere and see what you make of this."

Isaac hustled to them. Gentle dark waters lapped at their toes. The shaft ran straight for a few meters but slanted in a sharp decline that ducked underwater. A water main must've burst from the moonquakes and filled the shaft. Cold dampness seeped into Isaac's suit and clung to his skin. This looked very unfortunate.

"Should we go around?" asked Ivy, taking a small rock and tossing it into the water. The splash echoed off the walls, and refracted light from their visors waved in crossed lines across the blackened rocks. "_Is _there another way around? I'm not familiar with this area."

Kaassen queued up a holographic map. "The last tentacle is on the other end of this shaft, but the shaft carries on for a few kilometers before we're there. An alternate route is possible, but would obviously take longer. _Much _longer."

While they'd carried on, Isaac gazed at the fallen carts, the gears inside his head cranking. "Maybe…we can get these carts running again. These old rails are magnetic, so we won't have to worry about electricity or plasma charges. See," he gestured to the undercarriage of a cart where there was an old nitrogen canister attached to a set of magnetic clamps, "replace the nitrogen so the clamps don't overheat, and we can ride through the water to the end of the shaft."

Ivy half-heartedly kicked the cart's side. The _dong _her foot made was hollow. "Think we can fit into one?"

"You're jumping ahead," Kaassen said. "Let's hunt up another nitrogen canister. With everything sitting around for decades, it'll be a miracle."

"If we can't find one, we'll figure something else out," Ivy replied. She turned her head to Isaac. "What do we look for?"

"The canisters will have a capacity meter at the top. Green is full, yellow is halfway, red is empty."

They each took one rail and kept to three abreast, leaving Fiver sitting at the edge of the water. They searched for about ten minutes when he flinched from another eye pain. "Guys, stop." Ivy and Kaassen stood and turned to him. "Listen."

In the silence, a steady _thudthud-thudthud-thudthud _pounded toward them from the end of the tunnel they faced. A growl- -more of a ripping howl- -roared off the rounded shaft walls. He recognized that Necromorph; a fucking brute. As it charged through the shaft, Isaac could hear the carts slam-banging against its chitinous body. Out of the throat of the shaft, the brute's shape materialized, impervious to the obstacles in front of it.

Isaac was the first to move.

As the brute loosed another bloodcurdling howl, he snapped up his arm and shot stasis. The brute, too burdensome and thick-limbed to be agile, took the brunt of the stasis, and slowed under the blue energy. Isaac's quick movement galvanized Ivy and Kaassen. Kaassen tucked in his shotgun to blast what looked to be a comet-tail of fire toward the brute; licks of flame splashed over the armored Necromorph. Kaassen, across from him, spun to the inside of an entryway. Isaac aimed a shot at the brute with his own gun before dodging to the side of the shaft to nestle in a crack. The acid combined with the flame didn't seem to affect the brute.

The stasis wore off and the brute progressively became mobile. It roared at them, bunched together its stocky body, and charged forward again.

Ivy had dashed to cover behind a cart up against the curve of the wall. Peeking out, he saw Ivy fiddling with Queen Bee, and evidently, she found the correct adjustment. She ducked around her cart and released her weapon's ultra-sonic capabilities. She must've ratcheted it to maximum because Isaac _felt _the fucking pressure in his lungs and stomach. The brute tripped over its stump-like forelimbs and collapsed in a heap, where it thumped around and raised a hellish racket. It withstood the assault much longer than other Necromorphs. Ultimately, it went silent and fell into a craggy pile.

Isaac gestured at Kaassen and Ivy to wait a few more seconds. The brute didn't stir and cautiously, they grouped together. The ease with which they'd dispatched the brute unsettled Isaac. He expected…_more_ than this. More Necromorphs at least. And as he considered the situation, a high-pitched whine drilled into his ears. It was the type of whine that evoked a physical cringe and a splitting pain that Isaac felt in the center of his mind. The strange thing about the whine was that it switched frequencies- -even as it continued to cleave his eardrums- -so that it sounded like it swooped back and forth up the decibel scale until it settled on one and shut off.

"Hey." Kaassen had his hand on Isaac's shoulder. His voice was muffled. "What the hell was that?"

Isaac shook his head to clear it. Damn. That was something new. "I have no idea. But it can't be good." Like an afterimage from a stark light, he could faintly hear the frequency. "I'm fine though. It's okay."

Kaassen backed off as Ivy neared. She clutched at her arm. On her forearm were flashing red holographic bars. "I can't use Queen Bee until it recharges," she said in explanation. "Ten minutes."

Ten minutes might as well be an hour. Isaac rolled back his shoulders. "We better not be here." He started back toward Fiver, continuing, "But we can't risk going underwater, either."

"So…what? We have to take the long way?" asked Ivy. Her shorter legs pumped to keep up. "It's just at the other end of the shaft," she persisted. "Surely our suits can sustain oxygen for that amount of time?"

"Clarke's right." Kaassen ran his flashlight over a dark cranny. "At least we'll have oxygen and multiple pathways if we avoid the water. Ah, I've been lookin for one of these."

Without explanation, he jogged over to a yellow-painted dispenser labeled 'Personal Emergency Beacons'. He had to whack it a few times with the butt of his gun, but several things clattered out of the feed, which Kaassen picked up. PEBs were used when RIGs weren't a common technology. Miners would attach PEBs to their suits before going into the mines. If there was a cave-in or an accident that immobilized the miner, they would switch on their PEBs which would transmit an emergency signal that rescue workers could hone in on. The PEBs also had vid-recording technology that miners could use to relay last messages to the rescue workers.

"Think it's still good?" Kaassen asked, handing one over to Isaac, one to Ivy, and keeping one for himself.

Isaac shouldered his weapon to fool with the beacon. Standard CEC technology- -albeit fifty years old- -with an environment-proof casing and self-sustaining plasma battery. It fit in one hand, was a rounded-rectangular design, and was about a pound and half. When he activated it, three lights flashed green at the top. Good. That meant the plasma battery had charge left on it. Though old, the beacon would transmit.

But before he could tell the other two this, Ivy stopped and gasped. "Is Fiver supposed be doing that?"

Flashing red lights indicated that it had definitely been detonated. He had that slim moment to register the thought before the white, blinding explosion overwhelmed his vision and everything went dark. The world was a blur- -a dark one- -and there was the ringing in his ears again. He couldn't tell if his limbs were attached or if they were pinned or if his nervous system had misfired. Sharp, shooting pain erupted all over him, jabbing at different parts of him, but that meant he was alive and not in a between-place.

Sluggish, Isaac dragged himself out from under some rubble and saw both Ivy and Kaassen doing the same. A deep rumble rose up from the black mineral, tons of rock scraped together unwillingly, and distant creaks and groans rose as metal strained with the vibrations. Too weak to even comprehend, he struggled to stand. Up his knees into his stomach and chest, Isaac vibrated along with the ground. He grabbed Ivy's wrist; Kaassen had him by the elbow as chunks of rock cracked around them, splashing into the frothing water a couple meters to their right. Overhead, the metal struts in the ceiling snapped, brittle with neglect after so long. More, louder rumbling. Mineral rock crunched thunderously.

It was Kaassen who saved them. He threw himself into the black water, dragging Isaac and consequently Ivy, with him. Into the depths they dove as rock and debris bubbled white around them. Everything was muffled underwater and disorientating, but he had Ivy's wrist tight in his grip and he was fixated on the Major's RIG ahead of him, weaving through a graveyard of dead mining carts. They were committed.

Kaassen spoke in a regular tone. "We may not have enough O2. Use your suit's boosters and breath slow. Keep calm. Panic wastes oxygen."

Silence settled on them like a suffocating cocoon. Isaac fixated his vision on Kaassen's aqua-yellow health bars, on the white burn from the suit's boosters. Water boiled from the hot charge. Now it was a matter of racing against the oxygen meter. He let his mind recede from the situation because if he thought too much on it, his emotions would claw up and overtake him. More than anything, he couldn't allow panic to strangle him.

He'd forgotten the PEB in his hand and he carefully hooked it to his suit without taking his eyes off Kaassen. Ivy trailed beside him, the lights in her visor sweeping back and forth as she swiveled her head. They traveled mid-level; skimming over the abandoned mining carts, but below the ceiling. There appeared to be no obstructions in front of them and they had plenty of O2. Plenty of air. The track flew below them, sometimes frayed and mangled from the stress of the moonquakes. It continued on, endless in the deep weight. For an eternity they blasted through the water. Their O2 meters continued to decrease. Still no reprieve from the water. Air was at a dangerously low level, enough so that warnings bleated, and Isaac felt a band squeeze his chest. Sweat dripped into his eyes.

The ceiling over their heads suddenly dropped back, opening, and they oriented so they were shooting upwards. Isaac choked, the slow suffocation noticeable, and he hardly paid attention to Kaassen or Ivy. He didn't relent on his boosters. A tunnel had closed in on his vision and a ringing clanged in his ears. Then water broke over their heads when they bobbed up. All three disengaged their visors and gasped the cold, damp air over the water's surface. In the aftermath of adrenaline, Isaac's heart beat under his ribs. Ivy, her face pale, treaded water as she sucked in air.

Where they'd surfaced was in a shadowed pit. Beside them was a ledge that ran across a jagged wall. The moonquakes must have broken free part of the wall, cracking it open to leave behind sharp facets that glinted with their flashlights. Somehow this little space had been freed from the rubble. Isaac body trembled from the strain of gripping his fear and dumbly, he looked to Kaassen.

"There," the Major stated.

He swam over, reached up, and hoisted clear of the water. He moved away from the ledge as Isaac followed him and over then leaned to help up Ivy. She accepted his hand. While he had her arm, he checked Queen Bee. It had fully charged. Ivy noticed his glance and slanted her lips as if to say "Thank God."

A fissure marked a very confined space between two enormous slabs of black mineral. There was no where else for them to go. Kaassen wordlessly wedged his body into the space, metal and gear scraping across it as he did. Ivy went next and Isaac after her. Isaac hadn't yet recovered from the near-drowning and so concentrated on small, smooth movements through the rock. This continued for several meters until Kaassen pulled free of the fissure and used the shotgun's light to secure the area as Isaac and Ivy finished the last meters.

They had ended up in work lab. What type of work, Isaac couldn't be sure since it wasn't even recognizable as a manmade place anymore. Layers of squelching corruption, a thick carpet of rubble, and metal that had collapsed under pressure rendered the place a hazardous zone. Several pipelines had burst, spouting water into the mix, and tangles of plastic-coated wires hung from the ruined ceiling.

Isaac's and Kaassen's audio distorted with static and Trey sounded relieved as he said, "Clarke? Major? Do you copy?"

"Yeah, we copy," replied Kaassen. "We had a detour."

"Shit. Glad to hear you're in once piece."

"Did you detonate the bombs?"

"_No_! No, something went screwy with the frequency…damn, I don't know. Everything's fucked up. What's your position?"

Kaassen queued up the holographic map that lit up the space between them. "Looks like we're a few levels below the aqueduct where the last tentacle is."

"Copy that. The bombs went off and should have severed all the tentacles." Isaac couldn't see Trey's face, but he heard the anxiety in the silence. "But the colossal hasn't moved from the Marker's shroud."

"Say again?" Kaassen asked.

"The colossal's still there," repeated Trey. Frustration clouded his voice. "I don't know what happened."

"I do," Isaac said. "The colossal is like any other Necromorph. _All _the limbs have to be severed to kill it. There's one left."

An ominous silence stretched out between the people on the link. Then Trey said, "We'll hold position until you complete your objectives," and signed out.

Kaassen glanced across to Isaac. They nodded, on the same page. The tentacle was still a problem they needed to solve; how and why would depend on its position and the resources available. But Ivy looked stricken. "Who the hell cares where the tentacle is! We've got to get out of here!"

"We don't leave until we complete our mission," Kaassen replied evenly. Isaac heard the cold hard truth in the Major's voice. "You can tag along or not. Your choice. Clarke?"

"Ready."

Isaac followed Kaassen's back through the destroyed area into a widened hall that had an abandoned feel. There were no lights, not even emergency ones, and the air was already stale. Their boots scuffed across the littered floor and after a moment's hesitation, Ivy's steps came after them. Eventually they found a stairwell that allowed them to climb the flights separating them from the floor of the aqueduct, but there were several blockages they had to mount. The air had changed from the cool damp that underscored a body of water to a hot humidity. Isaac could taste the stink of Necromorph tissue even if there didn't seem to be corruption growing here.

Their path came to a dead-end at a warped door that sparked with malfunction. There was enough room for them to slide through sideways. When they did they had come out into the massive area at the bottom of the aqueduct. A clone of the other ones, this aqueduct had large pillars jutting out from the meters-high sides and a deep, wide sluice running parallel in the center. The tentacle was wedged in the sluice. And like the other tentacles, it had pummeled through the metal wall. In the pit and the air was a yellowish fog that curled like thick cream; a blanket over the languid tentacle.

"So we're here, what now?" Ivy glanced uneasily around.

Kaassen hitched the shotgun more comfortably over his shoulder. "There. We concentrate our fire on that yellow ring."

Ivy waited a beat before asking, "That's it? 'Concentrate our fire'?"

"Look, little miss. I haven't got the goddamn time to go running around this fucking hellhole anymore. So you tell me your better idea and we'll go along with that."

Ivy had none. Kaassen continued, facing outward where the tentacle awaited. "We'll need a defensible position. I can feel it in my balls that Necros will pop out of the metalwork soon's we start firing. And we'll need a spot where that tentacle can't whack us around."

"No matter where we stand, we're wide open," Isaac pointed out. "It'd be better if we knew we could sever the tentacle in a single blow and then run."

"I think I might have an idea," the Major said and he wiggled a hand into a large pocket at his hip. He pulled free an instantly-recognizable sticky grenade. "You think this puppy will do some damage?"

The grenade was a funny shape, a kind of oblong thing that looked like old-fashioned bar soap. It used a type of modified plasma energy to help it stick to different surfaces. From what he'd heard about the things, they were more powerful than usual military frags with a larger blast radius. But plasma grenades were not as reliable and were very volatile. It may not even detonate. Or it may detonate as soon as the pin was pulled.

Ivy's voice carried her surprise. "Where'd you get that?" Kaassen didn't immediately respond, so she answered for him wryly. "Let me guess...from another Oracle flunky."

"It's a possibility," he told her. Then, turning to Isaac, "Will it work?"

"There's only one way to find out," Isaac said. "Pull the pin and toss it."

The Major did so. "Fire in the hole," and he flung the grenade.

The grenade activated the sticky-plasma a second or two after the pin had been pulled. It shifted colors as it sailed through the air and landed with perfect accuracy on the yellow ring around the tentacle. Isaac and the others took cover in a deep gouge that the tentacle had dug, hunkered down, and in a couple more seconds, a huge explosion rippled over them. The sound of a sack of fluid slapping pavement occurred, along with the spatter of solid material in the near vicinity. Goop rained on them moments later. Then deep in the bowels of the station, a single low roar bellowed, and the whole place shook and rumbled with discontent.

Isaac risked a look. The severed section of the tentacle lay like a dead snake in the sluice and the hole where it had sprouted was dark and clear. Still the vast rumble and grumble that rose up from the station's bones continued. Ivy and the Major gripped the side of the gouge, holding on as the violent shaking rattled them.

"Clarke! Major! You did it! The colossal is detaching from the shroud!" Trey's elation crackled through to them over their audio. "Double-time it back to base and we can…oh, shit. Shit! Get out of there! Get out of-" Trey was abruptly cut off.

Over the rumble and rattle an intense, metallic whine shrieked around them. Isaac had a brief second to track the agonized noise to the ceiling before a huge _boom _rolled through the aqueduct. The metal below them buckled, curled up, screws and rivets popping like the fire of an automatic rifle, and everything collapsed. Struts that had upheld the heavy canal snapped and crashed, caving in the sluice and knocking over other columns. A monster crack tore along the sluice to open a cliff into the very core of the station.

"This place is breaking apart!" Ivy shouted. He could barely hear her over the station's death throes. "We have to get out _now_!"

"We can't move," Kaassen shouted back. "We leave here, we're dead."

The Major was right. The entire place collapsed around them, huge scabs of metal snapped and surged forward, chunks of mineral and technology showered the area. It was pitch-black except for the sizzle of severed wires and the beams from their suits. If they moved now they would be caught in the destruction and crushed under the falling structures of the station. Their only option was to ride it out in their little hole.

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**A/N:** Thank you as always for your patience and the time you take every week to read my story! The next chapter will be posted 06/15/13. See you then. =)


	38. Lifeflight

**A/N: **Welcome back, readers! I hope you've had an enjoyable week. Please enjoy the new chapter.

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**Chapter Thirty-eight: Lifeflight**

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With the moon's upheaval, the manmade environment went critical and it was the system failure that ultimately saved his life. Decompression hit. Gravity failed. Their suits compensated and magnetically locked them in place, but Isaac knew they could use their boosters to maneuver out of the destruction. Things stopped falling and instead, flung apart into the void of space, lethal projectiles that would break their bones. But that, at least, they could evade. They hesitated a second too long. Around them the rock and metal shattered, sank and cracked and heaved.

"Damn!" Kaassen grabbed Ivy as the ground fell away beneath her. "Hang on!"

Everything turned inside out so abruptly that one second Kaassen and Ivy were there- -the next, not. Their disappearance was so sudden that he couldn't think of what to do. There seemed to be no noise, or if there was noise, it had completely swallowed him and he didn't even hear it. The chaotic movement of a million different pieces disoriented him, and he realized he fell, or maybe toppled over with, the rock under his feet.

Hyped on adrenaline, he cranked his boosters up to maximum. He shot off the platform and swerved around sharp, jagged wreckage that wildly spun. The sheer magnitude of destruction was beyond him. He'd never experienced anything like it before, yet implicitly understood that he had to move, had to break into free space. Although the aqueduct had crumbled, some of the skeleton remained. Some of the huge steel struts had white knuckled through the destruction. If he was lucky, he could follow the aqueduct's sluice (what was left of it) and come out alive on the other side.

He had no time to think, only to react. The experience was terrifyingly similar to the skydive from the Solar Array above Titan, except there seemed to be no end in sight and he had to slip between spaces little more than cracks. Right away, as he sped low, parallel to the aqueduct, he wove between huge boulders ripped from the moon, nearly clipping an arrowhead of glinting black mineral. Several chunks collided and exploded into a pixilation of dust and smaller rocks that pelted him.

At one point, he missed a head-on collision into an enormous cliff that surged up in front of him. Even though he braked, _hard_, and burned boosters in the opposite direction, he slammed into the solid rock. He bounced, lost control, and spun fast with arms and legs flailing and fighting for control. In the nick of time, he stabilized, tracked another enormous ship-sized cliff as it shifted toward him. He'd be the jam between two pieces of bread if he lingered. His boosters shrieked when he jammed them into full throttle to skim parallel to the flat cliff.

His proximity alarm sounded, blinking alarms inside his visor, but he ignored them. He clamped his jaw together to keep from screaming and set his sight on the blaring glint of sun that peeked down to him. He'd either make it, or he wouldn't. At the near horizon, two edges slowly closed together, a door sliding shut, and he thought of Ellie, of Nicole, how they'd put so much faith in him and how he was going to let them down. Heat seeped into the soles of his feet, up his calves, and now the suit would overhead if he didn't back down on the throttle.

He didn't back down on the throttle. So gently the two rocks sandwiched together, eclipsing the sun's gleam, and the claustrophobia clamped onto Isaac- -he panted from the suffocation of it- -but he would die giving it his two hundred percent. Metal sparked; the rock had enclosed on him so closely it tore and chipped at the parts of his suit and the second the realization hit that he wasn't escaping this alive, the enclosure broke away into infinite space. The claustrophobia released its hold, and so did his grip on his suit's boosters.

As he floated, he watched the two halves of rock crash together. Fissures snapped a web of veins into the mineral. Isaac watched as the monoliths dropped down. Debris cluttered the vicinity, but through it, he figured a quarter of the moon had been unplugged. The missing quarter floated like an island some distance off. He gulped in shaky breaths, and when he wiped the silt from his visor, he found he trembled. Well. He'd survived.

The comm bristled static in his ear, but nothing intelligible came over. Either his link was scrambled or the signal was too weak. He couldn't worry about that, couldn't think what happened to Kaassen or Ivy. Right now, his oxygen meter declined and he didn't want to panic about the level of it. Quickly, he surveyed the destruction to find a landmark, _something_, to tell him where he was or where he should go. He couldn't see the atrium that had housed the Marker, and with rising horror, came to the conclusion that it was on the free-floating island some distance away.

He oriented himself to blast toward the section. His heart was cold in his chest, his blood throbbed, and he was terrified of what he would find there. Had the systems gone into critical failure as well? Or had the survivors been crushed? What of the Marker? Too many questions, too many unknown variables. Distance in space was difficult enough to gauge, and what looked near was actually much further away.

"There's nothing you can do, Isaac." The universe around him pulsed into that familiar sinister red-orange that bled from outlines. "You are powerless."

"Shut up," he told the Marker.

A child's laugh replied. "Too late. You're too late and there's nothing you can do anymore."

He refused. In his head, he'd already calculated how much time he had left. The slim chance of finding any air, emergency or otherwise, was astronomical. From the frying pan into the fire, he supposed. And the situation worsened when the power to his boosters cut off, sparked to life, and then completely shut down. The malfunction must've short-circuited his systems, rendering him dead in the void of space. Nothing, not even his RIGlink, had power. Son of a bitch. So this was how it was going to end, was it?

"I told you, Isaac," the Marker hissed. "I told you…"

No. Not his end. Not _this._ Keep going. Find some way. _Any _way. He brought up his arm, aimed, and tested the TK. A shot of white leapt free, connected to a nearby metal panel and tightened the slack to suck the panel closer to him. Okay, then. Telekinesis still worked. With another shot of TK, he projected away the panel. The motion pushed him backwards, a reaction to every action, and he doggedly clung to hope that he could survive the impossible. He repeated the process and built up surprising speed. Don't think about how precious little air remained. Keep going.

The Marker site loomed nearer, yet impossibly far.

Dizziness threw off his aim, combined with a choking hold on his lungs that forced him to gasp. Shit. Temptation was there to disengage his visor, but that would definitely be a death sentence. Keep going. Keep trying. God, he couldn't get a clear breath between the clutch on his throat.

Something hovered amongst the debris in the distance. It was sleek gunmetal with running lights and swiveling search lights that glanced off dark crevices. A ship. EarthGov? He didn't care. Without thinking of it, Isaac's hand went to his side. His fingers brushed against the smooth corners of the PEB clipped there. Then he switched it on. Vaguely, he heard the shallow gasps, the chokes of a man dying, felt no pain, no panic. He gazed out to the very distant stars.

_Twinkle, twinkle little star. _Ellie, I'm sorry, he thought. _How I wonder where you are…_

The children's lullaby seemed to come from a faraway intercom and was sang softly, with a woman's voice.

Darkness narrowed his vision, but an indefinite object cruised overhead, blotting out the stars. Blackness. And the next thing he knew, he sucked in air greedily, painfully. Muzzy faces and bodies surrounded him. Surreal lights saturated his vision. Hands tore at the suit, a plastic smell clamped over his nose and mouth, murmurs around him. Broken snaps of action followed, too hurried for him to comprehend. Thinking took too much effort, so he didn't and kept to the detached cocoon.

His sense of time failed, but urgency rang through him, stirring him from the thick blanket of unconsciousness. He struggled, couldn't get his arms or legs up, and as his vision cleared, he was aware that he'd been strapped to a gurney, and not only strapped, but _locked down_. Aches and shocks of pain raced along his nerves, but faded so he could think. Did that mean he was a prisoner? Was it Unitology or EarthGov who had him? Neither side appealed to him, mainly because certain higher-ups wanted him dead, but if he could choose, he'd pick EarthGov, for the small chance that they might still consider him an asset. Then, at least, there'd be some hope of rescue if Ellie and any of the others were alive.

Darkened screens enclosed him so that he was in his own cubicle and could see nothing of the rest of the area. A shelf next to him had a tray of sterile tools, bottles, and a datapad, and various other unidentifiable utensils. Holographic monitors above him displayed his blood pressure, breathing, etcetera. Bright bars rose and dipped, bleeped in synchronicity, assured him he was alive. Besides the generic area, there was no other indication as to where he was or who had him. He knew he was certainly not on _Retribution_, and he also knew he was on a ship, not a colony, because the lights and panes hummed from the engines.

In the silence, in the space of doing nothing, he had time to think. He had a million questions and no answer for any of them. He supposed he'd have to wait for something to happen. That, or else _make _something happen. The derisive snort surprised him in the cloaked silence. Who was he to _make _anything happen? He was fucking shackled.

Then he remembered something from one of his lapses, a chorus of grating voices assuring him that he was 'part of the whole'_._ And Nicole telling him that immense evil presence didn't control him. He relaxed his head back and breathed deeply of the cool, filtered air. What was his mind getting at? Carefully, he considered his uncanny ability to interpret the Marker's signal, to hear it speak to the Necromorphs. The manifestations of Nicole. The touch of the St. Christopher's medallion on his chest. Bringing back Greggs from the brink of madness. His hallucinations. His healing.

Maybe, if he dug around in his shattered mind deep enough, he could tap into the Marker's signal. Ride the wavelength to find answers. The Marker, if it was still kicking- -and Isaac felt confident it hadn't yet been destroyed- -would have an omnipotent eye on everything going on around it. Involuntarily, he shuddered, felt his stomach twist with the idea of tangling with the Marker _on purpose._

"It's insane," he said, out loud to no one, voice cracked with disuse. "Insane."

That was the crux of it, wasn't it? He _was _insane. The Markers had made sure of it. He hadn't been mentally balanced since the Red Marker had fucked over his mind the first time. But just because he wasinsane, didn't give him a good reason for doing something very stupid. It could backfire and cause him to turn into a vegetable, or it could backfire and leave him struggling with the Marker for as long as he physically lived. Or it could go terribly right and he'd turn into a Necromorph.

Fear squeezed his chest. The monitors overhead went haywire as his blood pressure spiked and his breathing labored through his chest. Nausea swept over him when a bloody image bloomed in front of him, the agony of dying, the crack of bones and the snap of muscle as his body changed into a hideous creature hellbent on destroying life. Damn it. He couldn't risk it. He couldn't, yet he had to. If he was on an enemy ship, they could possibly be loading the active Marker to take to another colony. They could experiment on him to birth another one.

He could not wait. He could not fear. He would have to not turn into a Necromorph or a vegetable or anything. He would not by his will alone.

Clenching his teeth together, gathering his shredded courage, he relaxed on the flat metal slab. He half-listened to the heart monitor as his heart rate slowed and steadied. Quietly he sank into the dark waters of his mind. At the surface, everything was kept ordered, together, so at a cursory glance, he seemed perfectly sane. He heard nothing outside his body. As he went deeper, he picked up a trail he'd pointedly ignored these years after the Red Marker, after…Tiedemann and his eye-needle. Footprints glowed red in his mind's eye, felt worn, familiar, as he followed them along the path he'd had to take under torture and torment.

Noises and flashes of gruesome violence- -macabre scenes seared into his memory, the hot stink of the corruption as it spread over everything. Still he walked the path. His eye-nerve panged, reflected the signal as he neared it, and raw terror enveloped him so that his teeth chattered from the bone-deep chill. He stopped, hunched over like the old man he was, beaten and battered. The horror and panic was a chaotic scene around him, swirling in a dizzying mimicry of memory and reality. It sickened him, the press and immensity of the signal, and his stomach heaved.

"Keep going," Nicole whispered to him. In the dark passages of his mind, she reached out to him, a beacon of faith in the shape of the woman he'd loved. "Keep going."

Swallowed back the bile, gritted his teeth against the agony. He staggered forward. A door with an orange locked hologram barred his way. He stood against it, heard scrabbling, as a body wormed through narrow vents toward him. Angrily, he pounded at the door because he _was without a weapon_ and shitshitshitshit it moved in on him, and somewhere deep inside he knew who it had been that was now not. It took one hit for it to slam out the vent covering, which clanked and skidded on the floor.

The corridor had taken shape as one from the _Ishimura_ within the first ten minutes of arriving on the ship, when the flight deck had locked down and he'd had to run for his life with monsters screaming after him and fear choking him. But here, there was no noise except for what the Necromorph made, and it didn't roar. Fritzing lights cut the pitch blackness enough that he could see the slasher grope a scythe out of the duct to the floor, finding purchase, and the sinuous body sliding out like afterbirth. It hoisted to its feet and swung to face him.

And it wore Nicole's face.

She was not as close as she could be- -actually several meters from him- -and instead of sprinting at him, she meandered along the corridor as if she knew he was trapped and had nowhere to run. He shook his head to dispel the thought of it being a 'she' and of it being Nicole. Nicole was dead. She was a sacred memory inside him, he'd worn the responsibility for her death like a brand on his heart, and he'd probably killed her on this path more times than he could count. Repeating that she…_it_…couldn't hurt him anymore didn't help him deal with the enormous panic welling up inside him.

Its eyes were hot yellow embers boring through him, hating and hungering. He had no weapon and he didn't want to struggle with that _thing _up close. He would lose if he fought with it. His single option was to get through the door behind him. Numbly, he felt along the frame of the door for a panel, for anything, and when he couldn't find it, he forced himself to slow down. The pads of his fingers brushed on a miniscule ridge that when traced, became the shape of a rectangle. There was a two-finger wide indentation which he hooked and pulled. The panel wouldn't budge, but he _needed _it to, and when he applied more pressure, it reluctantly opened.

For a hot second when he saw the wires, he couldn't remember what to do. Everything inside him wanted to check on the not-Nicole thing lurching toward him, but if he did, he would stand, transfixed until it bore down on him. The urgency and fear blew his functioning thought like ash in the wind and he couldn't remember which fucking wire. Which wire? He'd done this a million times and why _now _was he forgetting?

Without thinking, he smoothed his hand over his breastbone. There was the circular St. Christopher's medallion, the weight of it and the warmth and the engraved design under his thin shirt. Isaac, like all Merchant Marines, was familiar with St. Chris' background. Christopher was a man who did not have faith but carried the weight of it on his shoulders. A man who was an instrument for a force far greater than he. The implication- -the cosmic intersection of life and death and faith and revenge and a thousand other crossroads- -strengthened Isaac's resolve. He had _purpose_. His crumbling life had _meaning._ That was what Nicole and Greggs and everyone else had wanted him to know.

Then his fingers tugged at wires so swiftly his brain didn't even register the movements. He could only watch as he rerouted power and unlocked the stupid door. Now he slammed his hand on the hologram, but everything had taken a second too long, and the Nicole-thing had caught him up. He'd half-turned, feeling the rancid, evil presence, and caught the tail-end of a blade as it whipped forward. Immediate, brutal agony tore into him and without armor, the pain was a hundred-fold worse than he'd imagined. Blood, _his _blood, so much blood, he thought faintly, sprayed across the already blood-soaked uniform of the Nicole-thing.

Stars bursting across his vision, he tripped backasswards through the door. The Nicole-thing howled, gaping mandibles spewing fluid everywhere, caked fair hair sparse, but Isaac's love had been blind and he remembered her as she'd been before. No horror could erase the image of her smile and soft eyes. It was then the door closed on her. He lay in that white space he'd been taken to during one of his hallucinations, where the white hurt his eyes and had no end. A deep diagonal laceration cut his chest, soaking his shirtfront with thick red, and the pain dissected him with the sharpness of a scalpel. He gasped, made it worse with the quick inhale, and grunted when black tinged his vision.

How long he bled on the bed of snow, he didn't know. A while. Enough for his breath to stop snagging the splintered agony. As his head cleared, he saw a constellation of stars that he didn't recognize strewn in the blue velvet sky. Where was he? He should know this place, or perhaps it was the signal that pulsed inside him that knew it. The signal…he physically felt it, an ancient, evil knowledge evasive in his tissue, and like everything this place was, it beckoned and whispered white static-noise in his ears.

Snow crunched under his weight, but he felt no cold as he surged to his unsteady feet. Blood spattered an abstract pattern on the pure white backdrop. Somehow he drove forward, one hand at his forehead to shade his eyes, the other curled in on the open injury. A few times he stumbled, tripped over his heavy feet, and face-planted in the snow- -which he knew he should be frozen to the bone, but the cold didn't come, couldn't be felt around the squeeze of the Marker signal. The air thrummed with the signal, so he was close…somewhere near.

After an eternity of slogging over a blanched plain, he came to a ridge of bare stone and sheet ice. He hadn't noticed, but grey rock jutted in shapes and crags around him into a mountain range straight off into the distance. He climbed, sometimes tripping, always slipping, until he reached the crest and could see over it. Below, seated like an emperor on a natural pedestal, was a Marker. Snow and ice had crusted it over with white, so Isaac could not determine the color of it. Over the crest, the side of the mountain declined in a degree that he thought that, if he were to slide, he wouldn't kill himself at the bottom.

He decided to forgo caution. He leaned one leg onto the icy sheet and spread out a hand behind him for balance; already he lost purchase and slid along the slippery surface, increasing speed until his stomach lurched at how fast he descended. The material on his hip and leg was thick enough that any burn was temporary. It wasn't a long trip, and he managed to slow a few meters before the ground leveled so that he didn't break his legs. Still, he was unsteady and had to roll a few times to disperse the forward momentum. When he recovered, he was at the foot of the Marker.

Quiet all around him in the soft flurry of the snow, but internally…internally it was a forceful pressure that threatened to burst the seams of his being, a power that his mortal body couldn't contain, and the signal vibrated him to his core. Whispers were furious here, the voices many, the intent violent and precise. Here he would use the Marker's signal against it. He hoped.

Fear penetrated him, a shivery line straight to his gut, as he reached a hand to flick away the crusted snow, but he hesitated a shade from touching the Marker. He couldn't make himself finish the motion and he stood there with his arm extended. The fear wouldn't let him touch the Marker. Ellie's life depended on it, on _him_. Maybe the whole damn human race depended on him. God, he couldn't do this. No fucking way. It was stupid and arrogant to even try, but who else was there? Who else was there?

He dropped his arm, and facing outward from the Marker, gulped air to free up some of the tension in his back and stomach. That didn't help, but the try was good and the shakiness had subsided. He knew that preparation was impossible and that he'd have to think on his feet. He'd have to trust that he could control it and it couldn't control him. For Ellie, think of Ellie, remember her throaty laugh and how her eyes were _before_ and that she needed a shield from the bad in the universe.

Trust that it will be okay, even if we're afraid. Okay. Okay, here I go. Before he lost his nerve, he pressed his hand flat on the chilled surface.

And the mental equivalent of a nuclear bomb detonated with the touch.

A reeling tumble, head over heels, so disorienting and nauseating that he panicked and clawed with his hands for control. There was nothing to grab. The panic blotted out any reasonable thought and he screamed for Ellie because she'd always been there before and his mind was a blank field and what was he supposed to do? No one answered him; he couldn't even answer himself and so he continued the tumultuous fall until desperation surged over panic and fear.

His dizzying movement steadied, calmed, and the more he concentrated, the clearer he could see around him. Strangely, he was in some type of stream…it glowed, shimmered. It avoided him, running past him as if he was inside a bubble. There were…things…in the shine, like long pieces of rope but were a spiral in design, something he recognized. Curious, he stuck out a hand. The bubble let him skim his fingers in the glow and he grabbed one of the rope-like things.

As soon as his hand enclosed it, he knew about Darcy Milsovech. And not knew generally about her, but knew _her_ though he'd never heard of her name before that moment. Every specific event, date, name, number, person, or image Darcy Milsovech ever compiled over her 38 years of life was inside his head. Her worries, fears, joys, sadness, strengths, weaknesses. Memories, regrets, experience, skills. _Everything_. Everything became his, a part of his identity, a part of…the whole.

Christ. What had he done? Stunned, Isaac released the rope-thing, and he remembered what he couldn't before he'd grabbed it- -this thing was the double-helix, elongated and thin, but a double-helix nonetheless. Thousands of them, flowing and swimming together. A sense of deep, terrible knowledge filled him, so rapidly, so completely when he realized that raw information flowed around him. All this information from the human race _about _the human race was transmitted through the Markers. But to where? And why? Who or what fed on the information?

Somewhere, hidden, was the answer to those questions.

They'd have to wait. He couldn't lose sight of his objective and he didn't know how long he had inside this thing. This was the wrong stream, he realized. This stream was out-putting. He wanted the in-putting one, the one that gave the commands to the Grey Marker. His initial panic and inexperience had blinded him to a darker stream. He didn't see it, but he felt its presence and when he'd gone inside the signal in his head, he thought there'd be one signal. But there were two, and it happened that he'd crashed into the benign of the two.

Carefully, he prodded at the unseen presence. Quick, in a nanosecond, the presence snatched him and whipped him into a maelstrom of ancient existence. Rather than a stream, he stood in a deserted atrium, manmade construction torn asunder around him, a formidable pulse ringing inside him. Here, so close to the Markers, practically touching their brain stems, was no distinction between good and evil, but survival and such incredible hunger that it was borderline starvation. Hunger for flesh, dead, living, human, alien, _flesh_. And there was an incredible need for wholeness. Unity. The signal had him in its grip, wanted to absorb and conform him, but he refused to lose himself and closed in on the entity that he recognized was the Grey Marker.

It either ignored him or didn't know he was there as he approached on footsteps that echoed hollow in the atrium. Steps led up to the base of the Marker and when he was within arm's reach, he felt the signal change. That had always been true of the Markers- -closest to them was a dead space that Necromorphs couldn't reach, where the virus was rendered harmless. He found that he didn't need physical touch to interpret the signal into the Marker. The message was in the myriad whispers that resonated around him which seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere.

(_We are hungry. Prepare the path. Make us whole. Bring us more. We are hungry._)

If he could, he needed to change the command to the Grey Marker. Still wasn't what he wanted, so he did place his hands onto the Grey Marker's skin. Energy was infinite, sparking out to every neuron inside his body, and for once, he felt alive, awake, sharp with razor awareness. Much like the previous stream, he was in direct contact with sensory information from a million facets, and he could feel the Marker grouping and organizing it into clusters to feed to an outside point…a point of origin, the source. At the same time, the source communicated to the Marker, and Isaac remembered his advanced mathematics courses, the symbol for infinity, a figure-eight tipped to its side. Never ending and never beginning. The Marker to the Necromorphs to the source to the Marker.

Carefully, he felt around the mindframe of the Grey Marker; he brushed against a few smaller streams that told him the Marker controlled the Necromorphs as part of a Hive Mind. This section of the Marker also controlled the humans susceptible to the dementia. It horrified him that the Marker signal had so many connections into the humans within its radius. The Hive Mind was set up almost exactly like a computer, with main folders branching into single files. Briefly, he thought to separate out a signal to Ellie or to one of the Marker team, but he dismissed it. To look for that single connection would be akin to searching for a needle in the haystack.

Better to hijack the system at the central brain of the Marker. He discovered a vortex, an intersection of input and output that seemed weaker, where he could intercept the source's command- -the cold, pulsating heart, the very nerve center of the Marker. Twice before, he'd attacked the Marker's weak heart with physical weapons both outside and inside reality, but he'd never questioned the purpose of the heart except to understand that it breathed life into the Marker. Now, he knew what it was.

With effort, he exerted his presence. Around him the signal shifted again, and it was the same frequency alternation that he'd experienced before Fiver had detonated, so he was sure that it had been the Marker at the time. He closed his mind on it, feeling pain ricocheting along his nerves, and gripped the heart _hard._ The Grey Marker, inanimate as it was, was still an organism and it squealed in agony under his force. He didn't relent because he had the power of thousands behind him, the power of the many dead centered on him, and they did not desert him.

The Marker bucked, tried to reject him, but he was there and he had his hands gripped around its weak spot. Blood curdled in his veins, and the pain was so immense he couldn't see over it. In the throes of the struggle, finding any individual was impossible. His message would have to be to anyone listening to the signal. Without mercy he wrenched the signal from the Marker and input his own message. He coded it for the humans affected with dementia, but it was a powerful message and would maybe reach other connections.

_I'm alive. I'm on…ship. Don't worry. Destroy the Marker._ Agony and the Marker's writhing blinded him._ Destroy the source. Destroy…source…destroy…_

He'd lost the grip he had. A force slapped his entire mind, and in an abruptness that was borderline rude, he was flung back into his body. He knew he was back because he had physical weight, heard his breathing and the heart monitor, and his muscles groaned with soreness. Thoughts…ideas….words, even, were difficult to grasp. The borders of his mind felt stretched beyond their limits, drooping from the weight of it. Nothing seemed tangible to him except his brutalized body.

Isaac lay, lost in the chaotic swirl of his mind, and he forgot that he was conscious.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, sorry for the weirdness in here. I found it difficult to describe Isaac going inside his own head to manipulate the connection he has with the Marker. Hopefully, I did a good enough job. Expect the next chapter June 22nd. Things are definitely wrapping up. See you then.


	39. Grand Finale

**A/N: **Welcome back, dear readers! As a warning, the feel of this chapter is much, much different from some others I've written mainly because I put the pedal to the metal and stripped the chapter of unnecessary descriptions. It was painful, but I had to. I do hope it doesn't take you too much out of the story, but I have _got _to finish this piece.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-nine: Grand Finale**

* * *

Whispers drew him from the thick darkness in his mind where he had resided for some time. If it had been minutes or hours, he didn't know. Maybe seconds. Some of the darkness lifted, didn't seem as heavy. His entire body dully ached, was sore, and thirst raged inside his mouth and throat. A vise had clamped his brain, a steady prod of pain into his ocular nerve, and at a distance, he heard the crackle and static of the Marker's signal. The omnipresence of it, everywhere. It hadn't been destroyed. Goddammit. He knew what that meant. Nothing was over yet.

Something nipped at his neck- -a small, sudden sting- -which he concluded was a syringe.

He opened his eyes with effort. Shapes, dark, blurry shapes, formed around him. Necromorphs? Panic threatened him, but no, these shapes moved with frantic purpose and he heard words from them as they spoke in quiet murmurs. What then? The room was dark, nearly claustrophobic, but some of the people had visors, flashlights, and their RIGs illuminated the room further. A mix of military personnel and medics in disjointed activity. In their quick wakes trailed comet-tails of light. Confused, disoriented, he tried to grasp some semblance of logic.

"What's happening?" he croaked around his throat. He attempted to rise, but found his limbs too stiff. The restraints had been removed, which was a positive sign. "What's happening?"

Two of the medics propped him up. His first instinct was to struggle, but their hands gripped him without malice. Besides, he'd lost the element of surprise and he'd probably succeed in collapsing in an atrophic heap on the floor anyway. One medic said, "Isaac Clarke, I'm Dr. Taggart. We want to help. I've injected you with a painkiller, but it won't last long. You must destroy the Marker and we will help you."

Isaac gazed, unmoving, at Taggart. The medic's hair was silver in the gleam of light, his eyes flashed unnaturally as he stuck a straw in Isaac's mouth. Isaac sucked and tasted cold water which was a relief against his cracked lips. He could monitor the coolness as it gushed through his throat and percolated in his stomach. From the sides, two other medics put away items that he didn't see. An intangible force rippled around them, poured from the people in the close quarters, and it was partly the Marker, and partly an element that was unexplainable. What had happened during his signal-surfing?

Had he changed? Had he…caused any of this?

Isaac's flesh crawled, but he allowed the medics to support him as he stood. It was hard to track what was going on. His brain couldn't keep up, couldn't sort out the proper words for questions in the flood of action. Perhaps that was the result of the painkiller, so he stopped trying so hard to understand and receded from it. The medics rushed as they cleared away the medical equipment, doing so without regard for neatness or concealment. A wheel chirped, metal clattered. He saw a door slide open, spilling in red-alert lights, as a couple other soldiers rushed through, carrying a bundle and a case with them.

The bundle was tossed to a medic, and one soldier said, "We're losing ground. Is he ready?" The voice was feminine.

"Just about," replied one of the medics. "Did you get it?"

The second soldier lifted the case. "Here."

In the middle of this conversation, the medics- -another man and a woman- -had unwrapped the bundle and in the dim light, Isaac saw it was a grey, unpainted suit. The medics said nothing to him as they manipulated his limbs into the arm- and leg-holes and zipped it. He grimaced when his muscles complained, but said nothing because the pain could be much, much worse. Then they tugged and fussed at the suit to make sure it was secure and not compromised. One flicked a switch, causing a current of electricity or low-level plasma to surge inside the suit. All over, his skin prickled with the energy but he couldn't see it and didn't know what it was for.

"What is this?" he asked. His question went unanswered, and he let it pass.

The soldier with the case had, in the meanwhile, slammed it on a counter to snap open the clasps. When it opened, she pulled out the Disintegrator, nicked and dinged but whole and awesome. Isaac was sure he'd never see it again. He watched as she checked it, checked a clip, loaded it, and toggled the safety. She handed the shotgun to Isaac without pause and gestured at the two soldiers who had stood on guard to the side.

"We'll give you as much time as we can," she said to Isaac, before she and her unit turned heel to exit the bay. A medic had already flipped the shoulder strap over Isaac's head for him.

Taggart activated Isaac's visor and then took a handgun from one of the other medics. "Isaac," he said, locking a hand around Isaac's elbow, "let's go. You must destroy the Marker."

The other medics were grim and sweat gleaned on their chalky skin. Hammers clicked as they cocked their pistols.

Isaac, not certain he was in reality, was drawn to the door and into the hallway. Swept up in the moment, he allowed the medics to guide him at a jog through the tight halls. As they went, Taggart explained the situation. They were on an EarthGov vessel that had shockpointed into Rhea airspace to investigate the communications blackout. They had arrived as an unidentified organism sucked out a chunk of the moon. Isaac's PEB had brought them to his coordinates, but shortly after placing him in the intensive care unit, a power surge of some type shorted-out the ship's core generator.

A message came through the announcement system to destroy the Marker, and Taggart, personally, had a realistic hallucination that compelled him to find and help Isaac. Then the power came back on. Madness ensued as crew members systematically destroyed their stations and then turned their violence onto other crew. Quickly, those killed became Necromorphs- -which had gotten into the ship. Fragmented, panicked, several of the crew made their way to the medical deck with the same mission to rescue Isaac and set him loose to destroy the Marker.

Isaac shuffled along with the medics without comment, slowly coming up to speed. Somehow his fight with the Marker had affected the psychosis of those in the immediate vicinity. Emotion roiled inside him. Disgust and nausea sickened him because he'd fallen further from his humanity; part of it was…not anything he wanted to think about. What mattered was that his insane plan had worked. Incredibly, he'd warped the signal to his advantage.

Their progress was too good to be true. He'd assumed at onset Necromorphs would be hunting any and every survivor. Stealth and speed were vital. When they came to the belly of the ship where the halls broadened out, guttural snarls and roars echoed around them, coupled with creams that cracked in fear and agony. Isaac waved the medics back as he stepped forward, the shotgun pumped and aimed. Crevices and grates presented ample opportunity for an attack. Light flickered, buzzed. Fluid dripped.

"The docking bay is up ahead," Taggart murmured.

Isaac nodded. In the breath of time, the screams pounded them from the sides and out from the ducts jettisoned leapers. They clung to the walls, hidden in the piping, their scorpion-tails sweeping side to side. Without sighting, he jammed the shotgun into his shoulder and squeezed the trigger. The kick jerked into his shoulder, but the shot was good. Acid struck the leaper smack in the middle of the boney back, eating and disintegrating flesh and tissue at a shocking rate.

From the side lunged another leaper. Isaac stepped aside, bringing around the shotgun, but he was a hair too shy. The leaper pinned him- -as he stumbled under the weight of the Necromorph, it screamed, writhed, and the blood and fluid and skin boiled until the leaper went limp. He kicked it off, raised the shotgun, and finished off the last leaper before it made mincemeat out of the medics. When he got to his feet, he stood over the electrocuted leaper, smoke rising from its tattered remains.

Isaac turned to Taggart. "What the hell?"

Taggart shrugged helplessly. "I have no idea. I've never seen a suit do that before."

"Oh, great." Isaac tried to access the suit's data, but couldn't. "I'm denied access to everything."

"Should we worry about that later?" asked the one female medic. "I mean, we're sorta in the middle of shit creek, here."

They agreed that here and now was the wrong time to talk and so breached the docking bay without further incident. Vehicles and gunships were housed in rows of locked bays on the current deck, and at the end of the deck, huge shuttered doors were closed against space.

Taggart gestured to a nearby glassed-in case. "We'll need suits. Isaac, if you could get us transport? Jonesy, you're on the prepping bay doors."

While the medics climbed into environmental suits- -white and red, with insignias on the shoulders- -Isaac yanked loose the locking mechanism on the nearest dock and hacked the code. The dock doors released so that he and the medics could TK out a Litecraft ambulance. It was perfect for a small crew, needed one pilot, and had the capacity to put a dozen or more people into temporary stasis containment for transportation to an emergency facility, yet retained its maneuverability. Isaac hopped in to run the preliminary flight check, shoving the Disintegrator between his leg and the console. Taggart took the seat next to him, and the woman buckled in behind him.

"Decompression in three…two…one," called Jonesy from a control panel to the side. "All systems green."

Warning lights circled as air roared when the bay doors slid open. The Litecraft hummed under his control as zero-g lifted it and the engine kept it balanced. Jonesy climbed on, slipping into the seat beside the girl behind them, and Isaac edged the craft into open space. There was no question as to his direction. The pulse inside his head seemed to pick up whenever he faced the Marker's direction, and he didn't question the ability. God, it was close, so close and was practically howling with action. They broke free from the ship's underbelly into open space.

Below them, the huge blackened rock hovered with a tangle of metal underneath it. Chunks of debris floated, directionless, listless between them and it. They weren't far away, but far enough away that he could judge the layout of the island. Too much crap jutted out and blocked the shroud. Necromorphs had flooded the surface, writhing like maggots in a rotting carcass, and somewhere among that mass, were Ellie and the others. He needed to have faith that Trey had the bomb, that it was recoverable and would detonate.

Isaac jockeyed between sizeable hunks of mineral, but smaller pieces of metal continuously clanged the ship's enamel. Couldn't be helped. He wasn't even aware of it as his entire focus was on maneuvering through the debris field without destroying their escape vehicle. He spiraled downwards to the moon-island, occasionally swooping to avoid larger metal bits that hung suspended.

Taggart tapped a few buttons on navigation. "Systems down there are critical, air…gravity…everything's in the red or near it," he said. "The closest to the shroud we can get is there."

On the windshield came a green holographic track that Isaac could follow that wound through more detritus. At the end of the track was an arrow the indicated a safe landing zone. Isaac hauled on the yoke to glide the craft along the recommended course. The entire time, his brain had been worrying over how to contact Ellie and the Marker team. Their RIGs were cloaked and their comms scrambled. No outside suits or scans would detect them, unless they realized their situation and disabled their parasites? He had to try, even if it was to rule out possibilities.

"Taggart, can you run a scan?" Isaac asked. They were a few hundred meters from their appointed landing zone and closing in.

Taggart immediately, and without question, pecked his finger on a few options on the dash. Seconds later, the program bleeped. "One unregistered RIG signal is showing weak vitals." If he thought the unregistered RIG was strange, he said nothing.

"Where?"

"Coordinates are up," Taggart said. "Patching a link." He finished adjusting the transmitter. "Emergency response from the _Phoebus Apollo._ Do you copy?" Static for one second, two, three, four. Taggart made another couple of adjustments before trying again. "I repeat, this is the emergency response team from the _Phoebus Apollo._ Do you copy?"

More static, then a beautiful voice said, "I-I copy. Yes, I'm here." No mistaking that accent. Ellie. Isaac heaved a sigh of relief. Stronger, she said, "I'm here!"

"Ellie, I'm coming. We're almost there," he said. "Do you have the bomb?"

"Oh, my God. Isaac? Isaac." Her tone dropped; he heard tears and fear behind the surprise.

"Yeah, it's me. I've got some medics and a way off this thing, but I won't go until the Marker's dead." He paused as he aligned the ambulance to the flat surface that had remained unmarred and unblocked from the sudden catastrophic upheaval. Destruction was an unstable clutter around the landing zone. "Are Trey and the others with you?"

"No…I'm caught under something. It's pinning my legs. They had to…they had to keep going."

Isaac grimaced at Ellie's easy self-sacrifice. He said, "Okay. I'm coming for you. Don't draw attention to yourself and for Christ's sake, don't fucking die."

She chuckled faintly. "Wouldn't give you the satisfaction."

They signed off and in the intense silence, Isaac landed the craft with a slight bump on touchdown. He turned to the three medics. "Here's how it's happening. We find Ellie, we get her free, and then you get her the hell out. You take this craft, you leave. Don't come back until that Marker is dead."

Taggart, Jonesy, and the woman gazed back at him steadily. They nodded their understanding. Isaac cocked his shotgun and popped the hatch, swinging out of the ambulance craft into space. Almost immediately, he blasted three lurkers that sprang at him. His quick-draw and twitchy trigger finger surprised even him. The three other medics ejected; Jonesy snapped open a panel to withdraw a handheld duffle while Taggart and the woman twisted a handle on the back of the craft, pulling out a compact stasis capsule. Isaac circled the perimeter, gunning down anything that even _looked _wrong.

The medics were ready with their equipment; the stasis capsule had kinesis panels for easier transport. The craft had transferred Ellie's coordinates to their RIGs, so Isaac took point. There was no "inside" anymore, since the guts of the man-made architecture hung out in jutting, hellish tangles. Isaac's experience led them through and over some heaps until they arrived at a functional door that opened into a darkened and banged-up passage. The passage had been protected from the upheaval, had no gravity.

The entire structure creaked around them, asserting a catastrophic feel, and Isaac's stomach twisted in knots. At any second, the whole place could collapse or break apart and here they were, threading through the middle of it. They quick-walked the dark, cloistered tube, their RIGs hardly shedding enough light for them to step forward. Eventually, they came to an intersection. Taggart, beside him, queued up the holographic map, which had marked Ellie's RIG. A blue line zigzagged the route. Isaac didn't like the many turns and switch-backs.

"This way." Taggart pointed. "Quickly."

Their urgency became necessary when hysterical snarl-roars rose in a din around them from unseen places. Without speaking, they broke into a run. Collectively, they were a single unit, cells centered on a nucleus. Isaac kept at the front, eyes shifting constantly to any shadowed nook and cranny, aware of the slim chances for survival, but desperate to save one life. The terrifying noise vibrated around them, but when no Necromorphs launched out, Isaac thought perhaps his little group was one step ahead.

Through corridors, turning left, right, stepping around debris, until at last, Isaac and the medics opened a final door. Offline signs had indicated that this had been the observation tower, but it had collapsed when the moon had been torn asunder. The main entrance had air and gravity, both failing, and small fires burned where heavy debris had sheered through the deck. Paneling from the ceiling had collapsed at the far side of the entrance and even from across the area, Isaac picked out a figure wearing a black suit, sprawled half beneath metal wreckage.

Together, he and the medics rushed over, but had to pick their path between sparking wires, shifting plates of metal, and glassy teeth poking through everything. Ellie's visor was disengaged, her hair stingy and draped across her face. Her legs had been caught under a huge beam that had been uprooted from its fixtures and had crashed down, probably as she and the others had made their escape.

Isaac knelt at her side and stroked back the dark hair. Her eyes fluttered open and darted around until they fixed on him. He put down his visor, smiling at her.

"Isaac," she said, slurring, "it's about time."

"Yeah. We're gonna get you out. Hang on."

Her eyes slid shut. The corner of her mouth twitched, but she seemed to be devoid of her usual energy. Her RIG meter was red and slowly blinked. Taggart's RIG bleeped. "She's fading fast," he said. "We're not a moment too soon."

Beside them, Jonesy was elbow-deep in the duffle. He addressed the female medic. "Tia, help me here."

Tia helped him pull out a device that Isaac recognized as the Jaws of Life. It was red and steel with handles and a plasma pack that was square and boxy at its belly. When Jonesy fired it up, a broad blade extended from the barrel of it, glowing and humming. Tia had a smaller device in her hand, which she waved over the metal that had trapped Ellie. It blinked, and Tia rattled off some numbers that sounded like depth and metal composition. Jonesy fiddled with a dial on the Jaws. He and Taggart exchanged a quick glance.

"Stay here and be ready to pull her out," Taggart told Isaac. "We'll have to move fast to prevent further damage."

Isaac nodded his understanding. Ellie's face was pale, but relaxed. She could've been napping if not for the destruction piled on top of her. Jonesy lowered the plasma blade to the beam. The metal glowed, white-hot, and the plasma melted through it like butter. The beam broke apart and the moment it did, he and Taggart dragged Ellie out. Her suit was torn, bloodied, and mangled- -the integrity was completely compromised.

Taggart hit a few buttons on his wrist. "She's unconscious. The damage isn't irreparable if we can get her stabilized."

Efficient Tia had already opened the stasis capsule and had nudged it as near as she could. Together, the four of them hoisted Ellie into the capsule, secured her, and engaged the stasis. Isaac touched the glass panel over her resting face. He could finish this once she was safe and away. He would meet whatever end would come.

"Taggart, take the same route back. Don't stop for anything, just keep moving," Isaac said. He clenched his hands, feeling the solid metal of his weapon. "Once you're in the ambulance-"

"Get out. We'll handle it," Taggart interrupted. Gently, he patted Isaac's shoulder. "You worry about that damn rock."

Jonesy kept out the Jaws of Life, and Tia held the stasis capsule in check. Isaac patted the capsule, hoping against all hope that Ellie would be safe, and then he nodded to Taggart. The words were between them, unspoken, and when they jogged to the exit, those implicit feelings remained even they had not been shared out loud. He was alone again, facing impossible odds. That was fine. His internal Marker radar was hyped, burying the needle each time he shifted his head in just right degree. It was enough to follow without referring to his map.

Everything was beyond repair; the entire station, like Titan, had been reduced to a salvage yard. Several times he had to travel into space to circumvent obstacles. In the meanwhile, he hadn't come across much carnage- -a few Necromorphic corpses scattered in pieces, a copious blood pool spreading across the floor, pocked or cratered metal where a plasma weapon had been used- -but as he closed in on the shroud, these scenes became more frequent and much bloodier. Signs that the Marker team was alive and giving the Necromorphs hell. At points, he slogged through limbs and cleaved, perverse bodies ankle deep and wondered how anyone had survived.

"Isaac, it's Taggart." Taggart's sudden interruption of the silence startled Isaac. "Do you copy?"

"I'm here. You guys on the ambulance?"

"Yes. We've lifted off. We've got a few distress signals on radar we're investigating. Let us know if you need anything."

"Yeah. I'm almost there. Be careful. Anything could be sending those signals." That would have to be warning enough.

Over the comm came a pause. "I see. We'll be careful."

They signed off. At last, Isaac was in what felt like a final hall. Many of the directories had been wrecked, so he'd relied on practical knowledge and instinct based on prior experience. The corridor was whole, had gravity and air. He'd not heard Necromorphs thundering in the background, but as he hustled along the smooth, streamlined walls, he picked up sound. There were those vaguely human, but definitely animalistic, screams. And gunfire, faint, but there.

His hearing had not failed him. When he came to the end of the corridor, a half-opened security door allowed him entrance to the shroud at the base level. A crowd of Necromorphs spread like a stinking tide from everywhere and nowhere. The Grey Marker exuded energy, the cuneiform twinkling and lighting up with throbs, and stuck behind some stacked crates was the Marker team blasting at the overwhelming number of Necromorphs that spat, swung, ducked, and dodged. All the Necromorphs he hadn't seen while he traveled to the shroud had already been here. The Marker team was pinned- -unable to go forward or backward. He saw this for what it was…a last stand.

None of the Necromorphs had noticed his arrival. Their attention- -or the Hive Mind's attention- -was on the fresh meat at the front of the ranks. He could see one single option. He'd need to turn the Necromorphs on him and lead them away from the Marker team so they could detonate the explosive. He could blind the Marker to them. So near the Marker, the signal was practically tangible, and he went inwards to the point of origin inside his head. He remembered the path, took it, but it was so much easier to access than before.

The glowing stream was there, the flux of information, and elation buoyed him…how had he not seen it while fighting the Red or Gold Markers? Power came in the form of information. Information _controlled._ He was heady with the sheer volume of it and part of him wanted to join with the unity, with the wholeness. But too much of him was still human. Still blamed himself and the Marker. His choice was to remain individual; his power came from being Isaac Clarke.

The second he grappled with the signal was the second the Marker beamed its full wrath on him. The Necromorphs roared in a racket to bring down the shroud and to the last one, they whipped around to face him, a wave of gaping, slavering maws and glinting yellow eyes. None even recognized the Marker team's presence. All the diseased flesh and twisted limbs and the organic weapons pointed at him.

He sneered. A righteous fire burned up inside him, some steeling entity that connected him with everything around him. Squeezing the trigger never felt so satisfying. Whatever detachment he had from the situation was severed. Always when he fought Necromorphs, he fought because he wanted to live. Here, facing them down on their own turf, he fought because he hated them. He hated the signal, he hated what controlled it, he hated everything the Necromorphs represented. Unitology. Evolution. "Life" after death. He hated it all. The Disintegrator sizzled holes through the variety of Necromorphs with violence Isaac felt to the core. Goo and gunk and guts splattered far and wide, blood and fluid splashed the floor, limbs flew off in every direction.

Quickly, he spun into the narrower corridor. Minimize the attack points and give the Marker team breathing space. Use the environment to an advantage. His senses were lit with input; his brain absorbed and processed details so fast he couldn't keep conscious track. His hatred focused him on murdering the Necromorphs, stamping out their existence. He wanted to do as much damage to them, to the Marker, as it had done to him. Automatically, he strafed and jogged, moving around for the best angles, fired blades and chunks of infection back into the mass that howled after him with TK. Each movement was honed to cause massive damage.

Even with his awareness, his experience, and his calculated attacks, the Necromorphs surrounded him. He had nowhere to escape. They didn't care that they pushed each other into his suit's electricity- -the sooner to force a malfunction or an overload. Alarms and red lights warned him of that. Stinking, slavering bodies hemmed him in, their blades hacked and sawed. Noise hammered his ears. Pain, pain, pain. He remembered on the _Retribution_, when he first arrived and people had put their hands on him. It was like that, but the exact opposite. The evil that's on the other side of good.

Darkness dropped him into weightlessness, and he heard a heart beat (his own?), blood and fluid rushing rapidly through arteries and veins. Ahead of him the Marker pulsed with the heart beat. The presence was there, whatever it was that controlled the Marker, made it real and living, and its cold attention was on him. Around him the Necromorphs rustled, but they had ceased to be flesh and bone. Instead they were shadows, wavering in and out of existence, mirages against the black depths of the shroud. He stood his ground.

On his arm, he felt a warm brush, and when he looked, it was Nicole who softly smiled at him. She reached up to touch his face and even though his visor was closed, he could feel her fingers scrape the stubble on his cheeks.

"You've carried us this far," she said, "and it's time for you to let us go."

Octavia blinked into existence next to Nicole. She gestured to the Marker. "Follow the source. End it all."

And it was as it had been in one of his moments, where faces that he'd known intimately or in passing or not at all became present. He didn't understand how he could be _seeing _them, but the Marker had fucked him up, so it probably had something to do with that. There wasn't an explanation for it. He'd felt the ache, the deep crack in his heart, from their deaths, and he'd thought he'd lost his humanity. Somehow, in some way or another, these dead people were his humanity, and he realized that he had kept their memories, had guarded them.

He closed his eyes, and knew from under his heart, that he wouldn't be seeing them after this. "I guess this is goodbye."

"Yes. For us. For a time." Nicole's sad whisper drew his gaze. "The Marker won't use us against you after this. But we'll be with you, always. Please take care of yourself. The danger is greater than you could possibly imagine."

Nicole and his mother fade into transparency and from there, fade into the afterlife or wherever the dead went. A blast rocked the pathetic remains of the research facility and woke him up or brought him back from the hallucination. The Necromorphs abruptly collapsed. The Hive Mind from the Marker was dead; the Necromorphs couldn't function without the signal.

What was left of the emergency system activated. Exhausted, overtaxed, Isaac slumped against the wall, his knees giving out until he was flat on the floor. A sea of lifeless corpses was strewn in front of him. He was aware of an unsettling silence. After hearing the Marker's signal for so long, the silence, the peace was…disconcerting. He almost felt as he had a phantom limb, _something _that he'd lived with but was gone from him forever, but since it was gone, he felt its absence. It was a sense of having let go after holding on tightly for as long as he could remember. Thank God. It was over. His eyes stung from relief and mute gladness.

Finally. Finally he had some time to spare.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay then! We're finally done with the main story. There's just one chapter left, the Epilogue, which will be published 6/29/13. I'll probably do some minor revising with this chapter because there are some bits and pieces that need it. I erred on the side of posting on time. After next week, this story will be officially completed. Yay! =)


	40. Epilogue

**A/N: **Wow, guys. I can't believe this is the end. Enjoy.

* * *

**Epilogue**

* * *

Ellie stood outside the observation room, darkened glass shielding her from Isaac, separating her from the man she loved. For three months, she'd wanted badly to go to his side, but the doctors had warned her against it. 'Psychologically fragile' were their exact words. They wouldn't tell her why, even after she threatened them with Samson and when that didn't work, with the Captain. It hadn't made a difference. They told her no, with such a kind firmness that she obeyed but thoroughly resented.

From where she lingered, she could see the rise and fall of his chest, the numbers the monitors spat out on holographic screens. Everything healthy and mended and functional. He should be with her. He should be awake and laughing and at night he should be in bed beside her, their conversation carried across the pillows in hushed whispers. He should be working with her to find the origin of the Markers to end this fight once and for all.

"His guardian angel makes an appearance. Figured you'd be here." Trey had come up from behind and stood with her at the window. His smile was an easy one that reached his blue eyes. "He seems to be resting well."

Trey was making conversation, but she didn't want small talk. "I'm tempted to break him out of there. I hate they won't let me get any closer."

"Ellie," he squeezed her arm, "I think they know you're on the warpath to find the Marker's source signal. They don't want you probing Isaac for information."

He was right, and she hated it. "He's the best chance we have."

She allowed Trey to tug her from the partition into a walk. They strolled through the hospital deck in amicable silence and both seemed to appreciate the buzz of human life around them. Ever since the Grey Marker, she'd been feeling focused. Honed. Empowered. She hadn't wanted Isaac to throw himself into the mechanisms of Unitology, but from her experiences on Rhea, she understood the importance of putting an end to the Marker signal. Isaac was the one person standing between the spread of the Necromorph plague and human beings. She didn't want him to stand alone anymore.

"So I heard something interesting through the grapevine earlier," Trey said. He hit the call button for the elevator. "About you and Norton."

"Oh?" Probably had something to do with those long hours they'd been spent together to discuss EarthGov's movements. She waited for Trey to drop the shoe.

"Yeah." Together, they stepped into the elevator. Trey tapped the number for the lobby. "With all the time you two've spent together, some tongues are wagging about the, er, _intimacy_ of your relationship?"

"Norton's the contact in EarthGov. He's important to our mission, so of course I'd be working with him as much as possible."

"Look, as a friend, I support you. But Isaac's going to get better soon and everything he's done, he's done for you. He may not see the relationship solely as 'working'."

"Are you saying I've been unfaithful?" Trey's suggestion, the implication that she would betray Isaac, stung her. She shifted to face him fully and tried to keep her tone calm. "I can't help what other people think. I can't help that I every time I visit Isaac, I can't actually speak to him. So when Isaac's better, things between us will be as fine as they ever were."

"I know that. I'm making sure _you _did," Trey replied. "You and Isaac are together in this. Both of you are better with the other than without."

Later, she wished she could believe that Trey had spoken the truth.

Another month was up before Isaac was deemed fit enough to leave the hospital. Ellie waited for him in the lobby of the Med Deck, her stomach in knots, eyes fixated on the elevator doors. She was giddy, schoolgirl-ish, as she waited in a cushioned seat. She was there alone, as the doctors told her to minimize the excitement, and when he got home, to ensure he got plenty of rest.

She endured what felt like several hours before the elevators sighed open. Two nurses flanked him, but he was on his feet, wearing normal clothes- -plain grey shirt, dark jacket, jeans. His stay in the hospital had thinned him out, bearded him, and although he'd had salt-and-pepper hair, she noticed more salt there than before. It didn't matter to her. She surged forward and was careful not to fling herself too hard into his arms. The hug nearly killed her with its relief and happiness, and when her eyes stung, she let the tears flow.

"It's good to see you," he murmured. His stubble bristled along her forehead when he planted a kiss there. "I missed you."

Dear God, she couldn't control the emotion. Her throat had thickened, so she nodded into his shoulder instead of speaking. He smelled all wrong to her, like laundry soap and hospital antiseptic instead of the grease and spicy aftershave she was used to. And she was aware of a hunger inside her, for his sea-green eyes, for a smile that crinkled his cheeks, for his callused hands to caress her, for _him_.

They embraced awhile until the uncomfortable presence of the nurses drew them apart. She was familiar with the male one, Logan. He had brought her coffee and granola on the long nights after they'd pulled Isaac's broken body from the wreckage and everything was touch and go. Isaac stood back, and it seemed he allowed her to take control.

"Ellie," Logan said, showing her a datapad, "the scripts have been sent to the pharmacy. You'll need to stop at that counter before heading home. The directions are self-explanatory, but if you have questions, contact us. It's vital all meds are taken on schedule. Also, you'll be hearing from a psychologist, Dr. Cross. She's great at what she does for the ship." Logan smiled and offered his hand to Isaac, who shook it. "Good see you on your feet, Mr. Clarke. Ellie, take care."

Isaac nodded as Ellie responded, "Thank you for everything. Thank you."

Logan and the other nurse parted, and Ellie and Isaac walked to the pharmacy counter for his meds. Afterwards, Ellie tucked her arm inside his and they began the route to their living quarters. He seemed pensive to her, quietly taking in the sights, and she let the silence pad them. People had gotten used to him at this point and so they left him alone, much to Ellie's relief. She had worried that everyone would flood him to wish him well, and she'd have to be the bad guy in telling them to sod off.

"Talk to me," Isaac said when they had the tram to themselves. "What'd I miss? Those doctors wouldn't tell me anything."

Ellie chuckled and scooted closer. He slung an arm over her shoulders as they sat on the hard bench. "Where to begin? Ah, well, Trey, Leo, and Calhoune are fine. Their injuries weren't as severe as yours were. Those three have been my main team on off-ship missions. The Major didn't make it, but the girl he was with…Ivy? She's working with Samson to uncover the true purpose of Oracle. Noah and Lexine were recovered in stasis pods, and I think that Noah's got a crush on Lexine. He won't leave her side." She glanced at Isaac and saw the corner of his mouth wing up. "She's due to give birth soon, so that's the buzz. Oh! And Sher and Cookie were rescued by EarthGov agents. Last I heard, they were trying to connect with their families."

"That's a lot that's been going on," he said. "What about these off-ship missions? What do those involve?"

She grimaced. "You've just got on your feet. The doctors want you to have plenty of rest." Her evasion satisfied him.

The next few days were quiet. Isaac kept to himself. He was never an outgoing person, and he was content to sit at the desk facing the window and sketch- -he used a datapad and stylus to create files and files of sketches. He didn't hide what he drew from her; it was Marker cuneiform and Marker designs. Wary of spiraling depression, she tried to urge him to the mod shop, and Samson even tried convincing him to help in Engineering, but he shook his head. He read a lot, took his meds, politely refused invitations to gatherings or meetings, and didn't return Dr. Cross's pages.

Finally, Ellie'd had enough. "Isaac, you've got to start getting out. This brooding isn't good for you."

"No," he told her. "I don't want my head picked apart. And I don't want to be looked at like I'm a freak."

"No one thinks you're a freak." They were at the small, two-person island inside the kitchenette. Coffee steamed from mugs, forgotten, between them. "Samson needs your help with the suits and weapons. He and Ivy are still sorting out the Oracle files. And I'm going with Norton to meet a contact, someone who has access to Marker research that could tell us the location of the source. Please, this is important."

He let her words hang in the air. Then he raked a hand through his short hair. "Ellie, I'm leaving _Retribution_."

It took her a pregnant pause to process his words. "_What_?" In her chest, her heart twisted.

"I don't want to be involved anymore. I'm exhausted. I just want peace." His tone had dropped to a soothing murmur. "You're fixated on finding the Marker's source. How do you know it even exists? And then there's Unitology and EarthGov. Both of which want me dead. What does it even matter? Even if the source exists and we somehow miraculously destroy it, some new improved death threat will take its place."

His sudden pacifistic view aggravated her. "Isaac! There _is _no one else better equipped to deal with the Marker's threat. Don't you care that billions of innocent people might be wiped out? I'd say that matters quite a lot."

"Don't take this path," he said, leaning forward to fold her wrists in his hands, "because I can't walk with you. I'm done. I can't give more than I have already. It's not in me. I'm empty."

"It was _you _who wanted to destroy the Markers in the first place! You had to convince _me _it was a good idea, that it was your fucking duty to do what you could do. And now that I'm finally on your side, you've fallen back?" The words got stuck in her throat. Betrayal cut her deeply, but she controlled the hurt, controlled the anger that rose a hot tide inside her. "I don't understand. It was you who told us about the source. That destroying it would dismantle the Markers permanently. Why are you backing off?"

"Jesus, Ellie, you sound like some goddamn fanatic!"

She flinched from his accusation. He sighed, his shoulders sloping as if under a heavy burden. His eyes crinkled in a mask of pain, pain that _she _caused with her feelings and words, and that pain forced her to calm. He'd been through so much alone, he was used to being solitary and not sharing his anxieties and agonies. She had to be gentler- -impossible considering she plowed through problems until they were solved.

"Look," sorrow shaded his voice, "I could never live with myself if you were to get hurt or killed because you're chasing some stupid, crack-pot theory that _I_ started. Maybe it's a ploy to trap more people. We don't know. Please, can you let this go? Let Samson and the Clarke Faction worry about it. Let's leave the ship and _live_."

He'd brought their conversation back around full-circle. Before she could respond, the door buzzed. Shit. "That's Trey. I have to go, Isaac." She stood, a confusion swirling inside her because she loved this man, she wanted to fight and she wanted him fighting beside her, not _with _her. They kissed goodbye- -a hurtful kiss since nothing had been resolved, and she opened the door to Trey.

He held his gaze on her as they walked to the tram station. "Everything okay?"

"Yes."

"No, don't do that," he said and took her arm. She shook him off, not wanting to discuss it. "Something is going on between you and Isaac."

"It's none of your business," she snapped. Honestly, where did he get off on prying? He grimaced and in strained silence, they went to the docking bay where the _Eudora _was clamped for supplies. Norton was on a catwalk as his crew loaded up the ship, his soldier's shoulders and broad nose residing over his small piece of the universe with firm command.

Ellie and Trey waved at him from the deck. Norton's scowl lightened and he climbed down the ladder to where they stood. He greeted Ellie with a smile the same time he shook Trey's hand.

"Agent Langford." A gentle tease was present in the tilt of his head. "Pvt. Treyton. We're almost geared up. Not too long now. You ready?" His smile was a pleasant one, and she relaxed in his strong and controlled presence.

"We're good," Trey responded. Ellie caught his quick glance in her peripherals.

"Treyton, report to the armory to secure your gear. I'll brief Ellie on the specifics of our mission," said Norton.

Trey hesitated, again glancing at Ellie, but saluted. "Yes, sir." He went up the ramp into the _Eudora_'s belly.

Norton had a datapad in his hand. He showed it to Ellie, queuing up a picture of a pretty woman with dark hair and eyes and elegant features. She was Damara Carver, an EarthGov Data Archeologist who had access to Marker research records.

"Her husband is John Carver. He was under my command but got demoted and sent off to some shithole in the Outer Rim." Norton spoke, his voice deep and coaxing, and tingles spread along her spine. "He's the reason I know her."

He continued with the minutiae of the mission. With his arm and shoulder pressed to hers, a flash of sensuous heat burst through her that was a total surprise. When had she and Isaac last had sex? She couldn't remember and regretted that they'd spent their morning arguing. But he hadn't been emotionally present the last week except to deflect her conversation regarding the Markers.

"Ellie? Am I boring you with the details?" There was that tease. The humor came so easily to him. "I'd hate to take you on a date with that attention deficit you got going."

"Is that an offer? Because, you know, I already have someone." She paired the refusal with a smile. "But consider me flattered."

"He must know he's missing out." With that comment, Norton shrugged and continued briefing her on the contact.

On the flight to the contact point, Ellie had plenty of time to ruminate. Isaac had a valid point. He did seem worn thin, a shell of a person. He needed time to recoup where no one could pressure him, where _she _couldn't pressure him. Maybe if this mission went well, she could relax her duties and she and Isaac could heal together. If Damara Carver came into the fold, she would be responsible for transmitting the Marker's code to the Clarke Faction. Ellie had no control over how quickly or how much Damara could translate; Ellie would have to wait like everyone else for Damara to do her work. She would have time for Isaac.

Everything would be fine.

At the meeting, Damara Carver understood the dire situation without disbelief. When Ellie expounded the importance of what the Clarke Faction did, Damara showed Ellie a holo-image of her son. He was a beautiful little boy, with dark eyes like his mum, smiling with child's innocence at the image-taker. Quietly, the two women agreed to protect the future of civilization or die trying.

"She's a very strong woman," Norton said as they watched her shuttle lift off. "She'll do us proud."

Ellie nodded. "She's our best lead to the Marker's source."

"Captain! Captain, we've got a problem." Austin, their communications officer, broke through some static on Norton's RIG. "An EarthGov Yellowjacket got clearance from ATC to uplink to the ship directory."

Colonies used satellites to scan and register incoming ships. Each ship had a signal that automatically broadcasted the ship's registration code which was then stored in the ship directory. It was possible to disable the signal broadcast, but if done incorrectly, could permanently cripple the ship. Much easier for bandits, magpies, and smugglers to purchase a cloaking program.

"Shit. They see the _Eudora_'s registration number on that directory, they'll know we're here and not on patrol in our assigned sector," Norton said. "Okay, Ellie and I aren't far. Keep our signal cloaked, but if you need to scram, do it. You can pick us up when the coast is clear."

"Roger that, Captain."

Norton grabbed Ellie's wrist. She ran with him out of the abandoned colony foodcourt to the old-style Jeep they'd parked outside. Ellie had never seen a car except for in museums, but Norton had outfitted it with a plasma drive and had laughed when she'd been dubious about riding in it. Then she'd sat in the passenger seat, and she'd felt a wild sense of romanticism as he drove her to the contact point. That excitement faded, though, when Norton threw the Jeep in gear and punched the accelerator.

The ride was rough- -her teeth clattered and she gripped the door- - the tires slid when Norton swung around the tight corners, flinging gravel and silt in waves over trash and debris. A long strip of barren ground spread in front of them, dilapidated housing complexes crowding beside the road. Norton gunned the Jeep. Ellie felt the acceleration, the wind whipping her hair and roaring in her ears.

Norton's audio switched on. "Captain, EarthGov's issued a planet-wide alert for the _Eudora._"

"We're half a click from rendezvous," Norton said. His hands tightened on the wheel. "Keep the engines idling and prep for a hot lift-off."

"Yes, sir."

Ellie watched the landscape blur past, grey and blackened structures running together, and under the Jeep's hum, she heard a high-pitched whine. Then between the buildings, she caught the flash of yellow enamel.

"Norton! EarthGov, three o'clock!"

Norton cursed. "Keep eyes on it, Ellie."

The Yellowjacket was a sleek craft built for tracking and apprehending criminals with extreme prejudice. Ellie had seen Yellowjackets in action- -they were compact and fast, operated by hardened militia, and equipped with enough firepower to level a city block. She tracked the Yellowjacket as it swerved into view overhead and behind them. It was close enough that she caught the eyes of the co-pilot.

"This is the EarthGov Military Intelligence Force. Captain Robert Norton, you are ordered to stop the vehicle and surrender. Repeat, you are ordered to stop the vehicle and surrender," said the co-pilot over the Yellowjacket's loudspeakers. "If you do not, we are authorized to use deadly force."

"I guess I'm an outlaw now," murmured Norton. He squinted at the dirt track in front of them. "Ellie, behind the seat is a grenade launcher. Use it to lock-on to the y-j and bring it down. I'm taking evasive maneuvers."

He careened the Jeep to the right. Ellie was flung against the door, but gamely reached back. Her fingers brushed a hard case, came into contact with a handle. When she tugged the handle, the case snagged and she couldn't free it. Norton zigzagged between the buildings, but the Yellowjacket kept pace. A second later, an explosion rocked the Jeep, showering Norton and Ellie with stones and debris. In the chaos, Ellie twisted in her seat, kept a hand planted on the dash for support, and threw herself into the backseat. Her head whammed into the door, dazing her, but she bit down the blare of pain.

Missiles whistled and blasted around them. Norton kept the Jeep speeding ahead of the Yellowjacket, but the pilot was good and kept on their asses. Ellie knelt in the backseat, a haze of red clouding her vision, and fought to open the case. She worked free the latches, the case popped open, and a black weapon lay on foam, with a ring of ammunition. In practice moves, even against the sharp sways of the Jeep, she prepped the launcher and ammo, and hoisted it into her shoulder.

She had the Yellowjacket in her sights even at it swooped and dipped side to side. The small flip-screen showed green- -target locked. She squeezed the trigger as Norton fishtailed around another corner. The grenade flared an arch in the sky, spiraled, and hit the Yellowjacket's nose. Bright flames plumed across the craft. It dropped and peeled off to the side, missing a building's corner by centimeters. She heard the crunch as metal met ground. That was the break they needed. Norton wove through the deserted area to where the _Eudora_ had the ramp open and screeched to a stop in the hold.

"Get us out of here!" Norton told the co-pilot. The ramp snapped up behind them, and in a daze, Ellie accepted Norton's help in exiting the Jeep. "And send a goddamned medic down here. Ellie's bleeding."

Her injury was a minor cut on her brow, but as the medic put the analgesic on, Trey swooped in, his brow clouded in worry and anger. He checked over her, made sure she was as fine as she said she was, and helpless, Ellie watched him take Norton behind a door. Some raised voices filtered through the ducts. After the medic stuck a bandage over the wound, she saw them exit. Both men had deep scowls.

Her immediate assumption was they had argued over her; Trey had stuck to her like glue after Rhea station, and though he wouldn't explain his careful guardianship, she expected Isaac had something to do with it. Prior to meeting with Damara, Ellie had to convince Trey that she could take care of herself. Nothing would happen, she'd told him. She didn't need a protector. What they did was dangerous and the last thing she wanted was someone stressing over her, either up close as Trey did or from afar.

She sought out Trey and found him in the armory, cleaning guns with strict concentration. He glanced up when she came through the doors, frowned, and returned to the pieces in his hands.

"Trey, we need to talk." Ellie sat across from him. The smell of grease and cleaning solution was pungent. He didn't respond, so she touched his forearm. "Hey."

He slapped the parts to the table and addressed her directly. "What you did was reckless and you could've gotten hurt much worse than you did. I should've gone with you or you should've stayed on the ship."

"That's well and good, but you can't stop me from doing what I think is right," she said. "Short of throwing me in the brig, I'm going to take risks because that's what we _have_ to do. I don't need you to…trade your life in for mine."

"I made a promise to watch your back." His gaze drilled into her. "I don't break my word."

"Was it Isaac? Did Isaac make you promise to watch over me?"

He shook his head. "I can't tell you."

"You mean you _won't_." Not that she needed him to say it. Isaac's fingerprints were all over this. She made a disgusted sound at the back of her throat. "I can take care of myself. I have since I was eight. Trey, you have no obligation to me, no responsibility. Isaac had no right to ask that promise of you. And I want you to stop it."

"It wasn't-"

She cut him off with a quick gesture. "Please, I'm not stupid. There is one person in this cosmos that has that type of persuasion and reason. Trey, look. I'm going to get bumps and bruises. I may even die. But it will be a worthy sacrifice to stop mankind's extinction. You know that as well as I. Stop worrying about me and start worrying about the Marker's threat."

Trey drooped, his shoulders hunched. "Isaac's gonna kill me."

"You let me worry about Isaac," she told him. They regressed into silence; Trey fooled with a coil in front of him. "Out of curiosity, what exactly did you say to Norton?"

"Things I shouldn't have to a commanding officer." He chuckled. "Man, my ass is toast."

The tension between Trey and Norton was short-lived. The _Eudora _was not pursued, and within the week, they docked on _Retribution_. To her surprise, Samson met her on the flight deck. He seemed harried, pale with concern.

"Ellie, I'm so sorry," he began, and a pit grew in her stomach. "Isaac's left _Retribution_."

She had nothing to say. Coldness and grief swelled inside her, closing off her lungs so she couldn't breathe. No. Now's not the time to be weak. Still, her knees were watery and a horrible sense of betrayal seared across her heart. Why had he left without her? Why? So many questions burned her, and no answers to soothe it. Dazed, she allowed Samson to guide her into a private cubicle.

"Where did he go?"

Samson touched her shoulder. "We don't know. He disappeared forty-eight hours ago. We speculate he stowed away on a shuttle and deactivated his RIG. We can't reach him and can't track him. But he did leave something behind." He handed her a chip. To her unasked question, he said, "It was addressed to you. We didn't watch it."

Ellie slotted the chip into her RIG, and then choose the public-play option. The shot was of Isaac's head and shoulders. Dark half-moons shadowed under his eyes. Instantly she knew he hadn't been sleeping- -and that was because he'd stopped his medication.

"Ellie," he said. He rubbed his temple with a couple fingers. "I couldn't wait. I needed to get from under the pressure, to start somewhere no one knows who I am. If I'd waited, we would argue, and somehow we'd both end up hurt. The point is, we're doing what we feel is right. You're throwing yourself at the Marker, and I can't watch you die. Besides, there's…there's something wrong with me," his eyes shifted and his look darkened, "something the Marker caused that's different from the dementia. It might hurt you…I don't know and I can't risk it.

"I just…want you to be free of me, of the Markers. Please, go be free." His sigh was heavy, burdensome. "Anyway, I deactivated my RIG, but if you need me, here are my coordinates." Her RIG bleeped with a file download. "I hope to God that whatever you do, you're careful. Give my regards to Samson. And please, keep where I am secret. I don't want anyone following me."

Then he signed off. No goodbye, no I love you. Ellie stood in the silence, staring at a section of the wall, and tried to get a handle on what she felt. Anger. Hurt. Sorrow. An emotional whirlpool that threatened to drag her underneath. Most of all, she wanted to confront Isaac, to tell him what a coward he was for running away. But that's what he expected to happen. He expected an argument, to say things that would cut and distance them further. That's what he wanted: distance from her. She set aside her anger, her regret, as hot as it was, and inhaled a cleansing breath. Isaac wanted to be left alone, but she couldn't leave everything like this, like a mess.

"Samson, can you get me a shuttle?" Ellie turned to the old man. "I have to see Isaac."

"I'm afraid he won't come back," Samson told her gently. The truth of that was absolute. She knew she could try to force their relationship, but Isaac had made it perfectly clear that he wasn't hunting Markers, not now, not ever. She could not rely on him for help any longer.

She nodded. "I know. But I love him enough to give it another try, and if that doesn't work, then to make a clean break of things."

"I see."

Samson coordinated a single-pilot shuttle for her. As she waited for clearance, she traced the raised outline of the St. Christopher's necklace Isaac had given her. She kissed the cool metal and thought about the story behind the symbol- -a man carrying the weight of Christ on his back. It hadn't broken Christopher, but then again, Isaac had carried a different weight…the weight of humanity. He'd even sacrificed his sanity for it. Perhaps he'd carried it far enough and needed her to carry it because he no longer could.

Maybe, in time, he would pick up the burden once again. She didn't know. What she _did _know was that she would sacrifice anything to prevent the human race's extinction. And if she had to carry on without Isaac…then she would carry on. It would carve out her heart to leave him, but that would be her small sacrifice in the face of imminent danger.

* * *

**A/N:** That's it, folks! I took a liberty with using Ellie's voice and a lot of time-skip transitions, so I apologize if it feels disjointed. Thank you to everyone who followed & favorited & reviewed the story. You hung in there with me and I appreciate it enormously. I'm amazed that so much time has passed and that I've actually finished the story. It's a huge relief to be done. Thanks again. I hope you enjoyed. =)


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